


Secret Santa

by ferryberry



Category: Glee
Genre: Christmas, Drabble Series, F/F, Holiday, POV Third Person Limited, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4262286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferryberry/pseuds/ferryberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S2. Mr. Schuester pulls out his top hat again for a round of Secret Santa, and Quinn is less than pleased to see who she'll be giving twelve special gifts to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

Under normal circumstances, Quinn kind of secretly loved the holiday season. The lights, the music, the bells, the hot chocolate, the sweets - the cinnamon rolls - it always seemed to make up for the blistering cold winds and the sopping wet socks inside defective boots. But this year was different. Actually, if Quinn was being honest, the past two years had been different. Last year, she'd been pregnant and homeless and boyfriendless and cheerleaderless. This year, she wasn't pregnant or homeless, thank God, but stupid Finn had convinced her to quit the Cheerios and stupid herself had agreed to break up with Sam.

It was amicable, of course, and mutual. He wanted to pursue Mercedes and Quinn knew Mercedes liked Sam, too, and she wanted Mercedes to be happy. Still, the holidays weren't the same without Sam following her like a puppy dog. And to make things that much worse, Mr. Schuester had had the brilliant idea, thirteen school days before they'd be off for Christmas break, to have Secret Santa. Twelve fun-filled days of buying presents for some other asshole from glee who she probably didn't know or care even a little bit about.

At the very least, Mr. Schuester stipulated, "They can be homemade gifts, you don't have to buy them, and trinkets will do - but I do want them to be meaningful. Let's show each other how much we care."

"So are we supposed to break into each other's lockers?" Santana prompted.

"Why - oh. No, I have stockings for each of you, and I'll be scheduling each of you to come to bring your presents to me at different times throughout the day, and then we'll open them up at the end." He picked up a clipboard. "Matter of fact, Santana, you'll be dropping yours off early after your Cheerios practice - "

"We're not _on_ the Cheerios anymore," Quinn hissed.

"Oh." He scratched his neck. "Sorry, hold on then…"

She sighed when he looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "We can come in early, anyway."

"Great! Then Santana, you'll come in at 6:15 am; Quinn, you're at 6 on the dot; Artie, 7 am…" He went on down the list, scheduling them between classes and around lunchtime until all of them were squeezed in, and then he pulled out that stupid top hat. "All right, now if everyone's got their time right, let's pick names. Artie, why don't you come up first?"

Artie rolled up to the front, plucked out a card, and smiled at his selection before he gave it to Mr. Schuester, who nodded and marked it down on his clipboard before waving up Brittany. And so it went, one by one, Brittany looking excited - not that that was much of an indication of who she had, she would've been excited if it had said the Grinch - Finn looking constipated - not really a surprise, either - Lauren looking bored - no surprise. Mercedes peered at her card with a contemplative expression, already thinking of ideas, Quinn was sure. Mike nodded and smiled at his, not as pleased-looking as if he had grabbed Tina's name out, but not particularly displeased, either. Puck just shrugged at his card and flicked it at Mr. Schuester's head. Perhaps he was as annoyed by this assignment as Quinn. Possibly. It was difficult to achieve this level of annoyance for anyone else.

Next it was her turn, however, so she dragged herself up out of her chair and grabbed the first card her fingers touched. And wished she hadn't. Rachel freaking Berry. Of course. Just her luck. What the hell was Quinn supposed to get for _her_? And why did Christmas suddenly hate her? It took everything she had not to groan and sneer, instead passively handing over the card to Mr. Schuester and then promptly taking her seat, folding her arms to pout for a while.

Rachel, really? Quinn could've bought for anyone else in the room, mostly, but Rachel?

The stupid annoying midget who had stolen her boyfriend. The little brunette was prancing up to the hat, plucking out a card. She looked at it with raised eyebrows at first, but they smoothed out into a smile as she passed it back to Mr. Schuester. Quinn's own eyebrow arched upward.

What the hell was she supposed to get for Rachel Berry? Rachel didn't even like anything besides music. Although...on the other hand, that made her ridiculously easy, Quinn pondered. Sheet music could be downloaded and printed from the internet for free, and even if she had to spend like a buck or two, it wasn't a big deal. Quinn smiled to herself. Perfect. Cheap. Easy.

Santana cackled at her card - Quinn had missed Sam's reaction, evidently - and Tina was practically quaking in her boots when she picked out the last card. Probably had Santana, or Lauren. Not that it mattered.

Quinn didn't particularly care who had picked out her name; after all, all she cared about was scraping through this newest insanity of Mr. Schuester's without being scolded for her lack of effort. So when she had finished her homework after dinner that night, she scanned through a Google search for some sheet music from Funny Girl, printed it off, stuffed it in her backpack, and plopped into bed to get some reading done. There. No one could argue she wasn't being thoughtful. Rachel liked music, she liked Funny Girl. Easy and cheap.

#

Mr. Schuester didn't seem to agree with Quinn's assessment of the situation, if the look on his face when she handed over the sheet music Monday morning was any indication. But he didn't say anything, so she went back to her studies without concerning herself too much about it until the end of the day and glee arrived. Mr. Schuester had the stockings all lined up at the front of the room and, once everyone was settled, he waved them all up at once.

Quinn strolled lazily up to her stocking and sat last as well, sliding her fingers underneath the tape of a neatly wrapped package. It was fairly small in size - a mere trinket, like Mr. Schuester had said, she was sure. But once she had the flap open, she found a pair of red earmuffs, the new kind that wrapped around the back of your head and looped around your ears, the kind you could use for workouts in the cold weather. That was actually kind of...thoughtful.

And there was a note, which read, 'To keep you warm and snug this winter - and to muffle the idiots you're constantly surrounded by! -SS'

If Quinn wasn't mistaken, there was a bit of an impish tone in that note. But she kind of liked it, and a little smirk crossed her lips as she slid on the earmuffs. A perfect fit.

It made her feel perhaps a little bit guilty when she looked over at Rachel, the little brunette watching Finn trying on his Ohio State football jersey and Brittany jingling a feather cat toy and Lauren glowering at a packet of diet pills and Tina looking uncertainly at a bracelet with spikes and Sam flipping through a comic book and so on and so forth - with just a few little sheets of paper in her lap.

At least, guilty enough to go out and shop for a little something after she finished her homework that evening.


	2. Day 2

There was absolutely nothing in the Dollar Store next to the mall that Rachel would like. Not that Quinn knew anything about Rachel's tastes, other than that she liked argyle and music and nerdy things, but she was pretty sure even the midget was above Dollar Store fashions. And if she bought one of the other chinsy little pieces of junk from one of the other aisles, like plastic wine glasses or one of the cardboard masks or something, it would pretty much have the same effect as if she'd just printed off another song from Funny Girl.

Unfortunately, she had to be less cheap this time. And apparently less easy, too.

At least when Quinn moved her search to the mall, there were a few things that caught her eye. If not for Rachel, for someone else. But that wasn't her mission, after all, so she always walked past and looked down another aisle. It seemed like rows of nothing. She may as well have been walking through an empty store for all the good it did her.

But then she saw a pair of grey, fluffy earmuffs sitting in a bargain bin. And bonus - they doubled as headphones. Now, Quinn was well aware she was basically ripping off her own Secret Santa's gift idea, but seeing as she couldn't come up with one of her own, and she was getting sick of trying to think about what Rachel Berry, of all people, would like, and it was easy and in a bargain bin and it seemed suitable to Rachel Berry, she was going for it.

On her way out, she stopped back into the Dollar Store for one of their three for a dollar gift bag sets and set off for home, where she ripped off the price tags, stuffed the earmuffs into one of the bags, and wrote off her own little note. There. Mr. Schuester couldn't glare at her about _that_ , could he?

#

As a matter of fact, Mr. Schuester actually looked approving when Quinn walked in with a gift bag the next morning, and so she could go through the rest of her day not worrying about it. She was going to scrape through this ridiculous assignment after all. Maybe she could even keep borrowing ideas from her Secret Santa's gifts. As long as they didn't get too specific to her, anyway.

But fortunately, when they all gathered in the choir room at the end of the day and Quinn neatly tugged the wrapping apart, she found a pair of red gloves, the same shade as the earmuffs from the day before. And there was another note.

'On the theme of keeping you warm - and matching! -SS'

Quinn couldn't help but smirk as she slid on the soft fabric, wiggling her fingers into the nice fit and nodding to herself. Perfect. And an easy gift to rip off for Rachel to get tomorrow. She just had to drop by the mall, grab another pair of grey gloves, and she was solid.

This time when she looked over at Rachel smiling at her earmuff headphones and slipping them on to try with her iPod, there was a feeling of satisfaction rather than guilt. This would work just fine.

#

Rachel was incredibly - but pleasantly - surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gift she received on day two of Mr. Schuester's Secret Santa extravaganza. After receiving a mere few slips of paper with a poor imitation of a song from Funny Girl (which she already had the official sheet music for, to boot) the day before, she had assumed that this, like every other glee assignment, would just be another way for her 'friends' to display how little they cared about her. She even anticipated more sheets of music in her stocking, maybe even the same song.

But no, today there was a gift bag with a friendly, winking snowman on front, and although there was no tissue paper to cover the gift, it was more fun than just pulling out a stack of paper while everyone ripped open their packages and either shouted in delight, like Sam over his second comic book of the assignment, or grunted in displeasure, like Lauren over yet another pack of diet pills - at least these were a different brand. Instead she got to hold it shut tight, wait until Finn whipped out his Ohio State sweatpants and Artie pulled out a package of stick-on flames for his wheels and Santana grabbed out a wool hat, and then drew out the fluffy grey earmuffs as fast as she dared.

They were adorable, really. Little white snowflakes were knitted into the design on either side and it had a cord to hook up to her iPod! She went to try it right away and just clicked play on the song she'd been blasting on her drive to school when she noticed there was a slip of paper inside the gift bag. Curious, she slipped it between her fingers and read, 'Stay warm while you're listening this year. No one likes a red-eared, flu-sick Rachel Berry.'

There was no signature, not even 'SS' like she'd been giving Quinn, but Rachel couldn't help but smile. Someone cared.


	3. Day 3

It was almost too easy. The first store Quinn stepped into at the mall had a whole rack of gloves and mittens, some grey, some blue, some red - every color of the rainbow. And suddenly, Quinn had a conundrum on her hands. Rachel's favorite color was pink, and there was a pair of pink mittens with grey trim right in front of her. Grey and pink did go together quite well, and it wasn't as if it wouldn't match the earmuffs if she got them. Except the earmuffs didn't have pink trim, they had white snowflakes knitted into the sides. There were also a few yellow gloves, and even a grey pair with big yellow stars on them. Rachel liked gold stars, too.

And then there were a pair of gloves and a pair of mittens of the same style - grey with white snowflakes. Shit. What was she supposed to do now? Favorite color, favorite shape, or matching the stupid earmuffs? And then, gloves or mittens? Quinn never thought she'd have too _many_ options in the course of this stupid assignment.

She was making it too complicated. She didn't really care what Rachel liked, and matching was always better. Right? The red gloves and earmuffs her Secret Santa had gotten her were matching, after all. But then in that case, shouldn't she go with something less obviously ripping off her Secret Santa and _not_ go matching? But then would Rachel prefer her favorite color or her favorite shape? Why didn't they just have a pair of grey glove-mittens with pink trim, gold stars, and white snowflakes? Her life would be so much easier if they did.

The stupid assignment was not supposed to take this much effort; she was supposed to be scraping through, not giving it all this heavy consideration.

Quinn nearly huffed at herself and grabbed a pair at random. Gloves. No. Rachel didn't seem like a glove person, she was more of a mittens person. Quinn switched it out, staring at the mittens instead. This was fine. It would work. It didn't really matter. She could've grabbed the black gloves with demonic red trim on them and it wouldn't make a difference, because who cared what Rachel liked? She should be happy to get anything.

Quinn nodded to herself and turned to head toward the cash register, only to hear a familiar voice beckon, "Quinn?"

She froze, holding the mittens behind her back as she wheeled on her heel and raised both eyebrows at the little brunette. "Rachel."

She smiled, slipping between racks of clothes to step closer to Quinn. "What are you doing here? Not that you can't be here, obviously."

Quinn cleared her throat. "Secret Santa shopping." Rachel only nodded and let out a soft 'oh,' so Quinn prompted, "You?"

"Christmas shopping with my papa. I did all my Secret Santa shopping Friday night."

Of course she did.

"Well, not all of it, there were a couple things that needed extra work."

Quinn's curiosity, despite her best efforts, was piqued. "Extra work?"

Rachel's smile turned devious. "I can't tell you anymore than that."

She blinked, almost feeling affronted. "Why not?"

"Because it's all part of the game!" She said this as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and when Quinn only quirked an eyebrow, she puffed out, "The Secret Santa game. Half the fun is in guessing who it is, and if we just start _telling_ each other, it takes all that mystery out of it." She paused, eyeing Quinn. "Unless you already know who yours is."

Quinn frowned. She'd been so busy not caring about all this that she'd forgotten to try to figure out who was giving her gifts. Not that it mattered much, except at the moment when Rachel was obviously goading her. She looked particularly radiant when she was being mischievous. It was annoying.

And unfortunately, Quinn didn't have a clue. It could quite literally be anyone. Well, except for Santana, because no one else would have the gall to give Lauren Zizes diet pills for a Christmas present. Nor Tina, because Quinn suspected the fear in her eyes when she plucked out her card meant she had Santana. Artie had given himself away with that smile of his when he picked out his card - he obviously had Brittany. And Puck had given himself away by giving Artie flames for his wheelchair.

But that still left her with Mike, Sam, Finn, Mercedes, Brittany, Lauren, and Rachel. Though she rather doubted Lauren would send her such positive notes, let alone offer gifts that required more effort than a glance through her locker for what she didn't want anymore. Quinn would have to consider it more later, however, because Rachel was waiting for an answer.

"No," she admitted with a grunt. Rachel seemed a bit _too_ pleased with that answer, so Quinn muttered, "I have to go," and made a tactical retreat.

"Okay… Have a good evening, Quinn!" Rachel called brightly.

Quinn grunted.

#

Mr. Schuester seemed a little less pleased to see the same gift bag as the day before, but he couldn't complain, seeing as it was a different gift inside. It was akin to using the same wrapping paper, as far as Quinn was concerned, and she wasn't that concerned through the rest of the day until it was time to open their presents again.

This time she sat back and watched while Rachel closed her eyes and the bag until she heard a triumphant shout from Santana on opening a boxed classic horror collection, and then whipped out the pair of grey mittens with snowflakes on them. A smile instantly crossed her plump lips as she tried them on, wiggling her fingers in the fabric with a rather cutely scrunched nose.

Quinn cleared her throat and pulled her wrapping loose, drawing out a long cotton scarf, red as the earmuffs and gloves she'd received. She wrapped it about her neck once, relishing in the softness, before she pulled out the usual note.

'To keep you warm, matching, and classy - I hear scarves are in fashion! -SS'

Definitely not Lauren, then, Quinn decided with a smirk.


	4. Day 4

Thankfully, Quinn did not have the same trouble with the scarf as she had with the mittens. She went to the same store in the mall, found the scarves, and there was a grey one with two large snowflakes at each end. She grabbed it instantly. But then she had to pause, and wonder. What could possibly be next in the list of things her Secret Santa was going to get her?

So far they had all been wintry protection items and there were still nine to go. Long johns? A winter coat? A sweater? Boots? Maybe a pair of bright red, thick socks. Quinn grimaced at the very thought. She was going to wind up looking like a skinny blonde Santa Claus if this kept up, and Rachel was going to look like a foggy, snowing winter day.

But maybe her Secret Santa deserved more credit, maybe they would move on from the winter care items now that she had earmuffs, gloves, and a scarf. Not that anyone in the glee club deserved that much credit, but Quinn had to hope she wouldn't have nine more presents that she would promptly send to Goodwill because red on top of red on top of more red wasn't flattering on anyone.

So she decided not to buy ahead, just in case her Secret Santa had a brain, and instead went home with the scarf and popped it in the last snowman bag she had - she'd figure out what to do next when she had her next idea - and jotted out another note, and plopped on her bed to finish her book.

#

Mr. Schuester was even less approving than the day before on seeing the same gift bag. But once again, Quinn pointed out there was a different gift inside, and so he just sighed and put it into Rachel's stocking and sent her off. She was definitely scraping low at the moment, but hopefully she would get some new ideas in the afternoon.

What she got when she unwrapped her latest present was the last thing she expected, however. Something even more thoughtful than simply getting her items to keep her warm, items matching her beloved Cheerios color. It wasn't terribly expensive or grand, but it meant whoever was buying for her paid attention. It was a book light.

It may have seemed generic to everyone else, but to Quinn, it wasn't. It meant this person knew she was a big reader. So that put Sam, Finn, Mercedes, and Brittany higher on her list of possibilities. They had all spent more time with her in some capacity, and all of them _could_ be thoughtful when they decided to be. She felt a bit bad now about thinking Finn's puzzled face rather constipated-looking.

And even worse when she looked over to Rachel closing her eyes and whipping open her little gift bag to pull out a simple scarf and wrap it around her neck. She was smiling, delighted - though her brow was slightly furrowed - but Quinn couldn't help the feeling in her gut, the heavy suction of guilt for not giving her something a _little_ better than a ripped off gift idea. After all, the midget wasn't _so_ bad since she and Finn broke up.

Besides, it wasn't like she could rip off this particular gift. Rachel wasn't an avid reader, as far as Quinn knew, although perhaps it could be of use while she was looking at sheet music. Still, it would be fairly obvious to anyone who was paying attention what she was doing if she simply went out and bought Rachel a book light. Not that anyone was paying attention, except perhaps Mr. Schuester. She had to assume he only hadn't said anything to her because he was just glad she was getting Rachel anything at all now. As he should be.

Still, now Quinn had to think. About what Rachel _liked_. Perhaps the note could give her an idea - it occurred to her now that she'd forgotten to read it, and though it wasn't at all helpful, it further proved the sweetness of the latest gift.

'To read even while the days are darkening! -SS'

Dammit.

#

Rachel had been ecstatic, both yesterday and today, to find more gift bags. Sure, they had the same exact smiling snowman on them as the first one, but it meant real gifts inside. And there were notes with the cute matching mittens and scarves. The first one read, 'Did you know mittens are better at trapping heat than gloves?' And the second, 'Can't have that precious throat catching cold.'

There was a wryness to the notes that Rachel appreciated in spite of herself; in fact, it was almost funny to her, to read them in a droll voice in her head.

However, Rachel was starting to get a strange and suspicious feeling about all this. Her last three gifts had been almost exactly like the first three gifts she had given to Quinn - only not red, of course. And they had even stolen her note idea. It was flattering, in a way, that someone thought her gifts to Quinn were good enough to steal the ideas. Perhaps that was why the first gift had been so bad; they were simply poor gift givers and needed guidance.

Or, on the other hand, she thought, looking over at Quinn holding onto her book light and staring into space with this miserable expression on her face - Quinn was her Secret Santa and cared so little about the assignment and Rachel herself that she had just been mimicking her own gifts. In that case, it was a wonder she hadn't just re-gifted everything Rachel had given her so far.

Rachel didn't particularly like that idea. She much preferred her first one, where it could be anyone still - aside from Santana, because she had a feeling if Santana was her Secret Santa, she'd be receiving the same sorts of gifts as Lauren was getting. Today it was the smallest size available of Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse.

Although, it would be rather ironic if she and Quinn were exchanging to the exclusion of everyone else. And she could see Quinn writing these dry, somewhat humorous notes. And it would explain why Quinn looked so sour over a gift Rachel had had no doubt she would love. Rachel _knew_ she loved books, loved reading - she did it all the time. Even in glee, much to Rachel's chagrin. She supposed she would know for sure if her last gift of the week was a book light.

But maybe she was thinking about this all wrong. Rachel had put a _lot_ of thought into her series of gifts for Quinn, after all, and maybe, when it was all over and they revealed themselves, Quinn would finally accept their friendship. Maybe she would grow to appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gifts and grow thoughtful about Rachel, too. Maybe, just maybe, the result of all this would be closeness with Quinn Fabray.

Rachel almost bounced just thinking about it.


	5. Day 5

All the stores in the mall _sucked_. Quinn had been perusing them, store after store, aisle after aisle, since she'd finished dinner and homework earlier. It was now completely dark outside and store employees were glaring at her whenever she walked into a relatively empty one. There was nothing in any of them. She'd tried to go into the same place she'd gotten the scarves and gloves from, but they were primarily a clothing place with no argyle or miniskirts in sight. She tried a couple other clothing stores, too, but even if they had argyle or sweaters with animals on them, they were just wrong somehow. Quinn couldn't even put her finger on why they were wrong, they just were. Maybe it was because argyle was awful. Nobody had any miniskirts, either; they were all stocked with winter clothing.

In desperation, Quinn also tried the shoe store for Mary Janes or something and came up empty. She went into Bath and Body Works, but realized halfway through smelling gels and lotions and perfumes that she didn't know what smells Rachel liked and could no longer tell the difference between any of the scents anyway. She briefly went into the Hot Topic for one of their 'ironic' cutesie things that Rachel might like. She went into the bookstore and found about five things she'd want to read, but realized she had no idea what kind of books Rachel liked. There were some biographies and autobiographies from musicians and singers, but other than Barbra Streisand and Patti LuPone, she didn't know if Rachel would be interested.

That at least gave Quinn the idea to go to the music store, but when she looked through their official sheet music books and 'complete guides' to various musicals, she realized that she didn't know what musicals Rachel liked other than the ones with Barbra Streisand in them. And she almost certainly had all the material relating to those already.

Quinn was about ready to bang her head against a wall, sitting there on a bench in the middle of the quieting mall, thinking. She was seriously considering buying a Cinnabon cinnamon roll, boxing it, and throwing it at Mr. Schuester's head in the morning. But perhaps she was going about it all wrong. Just looking and looking like this was getting her nowhere, so perhaps she needed to think more about - gulp - Rachel.

What did Rachel like? Finn. Quinn couldn't exactly buy her that, or fit him in a stocking, even if she was willing to ever see those two back together again - which she wasn't. What else?

Argyle, stupid animal sweaters. Been there, done that. Same with mini skirts and Mary Janes.

Stars. Pink. Music. Winning. Broadway. New York. Squealing with Kurt. Sleepovers. Animals. Fluffy things. Girly things.

Girly things. Like jewelry?

Quinn hadn't been into the jewelry store yet. After all, she hadn't been interested in spending a whole ton of money on this assignment, but she supposed just one expensive gift wouldn't hurt… Rachel deserved it for not being _too_ annoying when they'd run into each other the other day. Decided, Quinn stood and went to peruse the shining jewels encased in glass, whilst being watched closely by a man in a suit, until she made it clear she was making a purchase. His tone changed then, and he happily took a few pieces out for her and boxed the one she chose, and wished her a Merry Christmas on her way out the door.

At home with her velvet box, Quinn supposed it needed a little more wrapping than that, but she was out of gift bags, and so she dug out a few old rolls of Christmas paper from the hall closet and sat neatly, painstakingly slicing it into a proper section and carefully taping it off once she set the note inside. There. Mr. Schuester _definitely_ couldn't complain about that.

#

And he didn't. In fact, he looked surprised and impressed by the offering, though Quinn didn't see why. But since he didn't say anything, Quinn simply went back about her day without worrying over it and his possible reprimand.

That afternoon, she sat and unwrapped a booksleeve from her stocking and suddenly smiled. Whoever her Secret Santa was, they were evidently going with categories with their gifts. First three, winter wear. Now book-related items. She could only wonder what was next, and half-wished the notes had clues to up the game, but this one simply read, 'Now to protect your books from the weather! -SS'

Quinn smirked and promptly brought her attention back over to Rachel. At least now she had the entire weekend to think up something the midget would really like.

#

An actual wrapped present. Quite neatly wrapped, too. In red and green paper, the classiest Rachel had ever seen, without words or decorations on it. She almost hated to tear into it, but she carefully did so, popping up the tape until she had a slim, navy velvet box in her lap. She sucked in a breath in wonder. Velvet boxes normally meant jewelry, but certainly it couldn't be.

She opened up the lid cautiously, only to find a note covering up her gift inside. It merely read, 'Be careful with these, would you? Obsidian and silver make for an expensive purchase.'

Rachel's eyebrows popped up, and as she slid aside the note, she found a necklace and earring set with silver chains and loops, and for the charms, obsidian set into the shape of musical notes. Rachel abruptly decided something - her instinct that Quinn was her Secret Santa had to be dead wrong.

Her gaze flitted around the room rapidly as she closed the box - she certainly didn't want to drop it by accident and risk marring the precious gems. Immediately, she could cross off a few people. Santana, obviously. Lauren had the next size up of Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse today _and_ she was just as unlikely as Quinn. So was Brittany, in that case. And so was Lauren, for that matter. And Mike - he already had Tina - and Artie - he had Brittany.

That left Tina (unlikely), Sam (also unlikely), Mercedes (possible but not probable), Noah (oh no), and...Finn. Finn? After she had gotten revenge on him the way she did and he dumped her? Perhaps this was his way of forgiving her… Maybe he was just struggling with his pride. Maybe he was using this opportunity to find a way back together.

Rachel pursed her lips. That thought would've sent a thrill through her before. Now she didn't know how she felt, and the feeling of eyes on her and the thoughtful smirk of one Quinn Fabray wasn't helping her figure it out.


	6. Day 6

Quinn spent _all weekend_ thinking about Rachel Berry. And outside of a half hour of self-pity in which she allowed herself to bemoan what her life had become, it actually wasn't... _all_ bad. It was true that Rachel could be one of the most annoying beings on the planet. After all, she never stopped talking, and it was usually at a volume Quinn found offensive to her ears, but then it was _kind of_ understandable. When Quinn really thought about it. If Rachel _didn't_ talk nonstop and _didn't_ talk loudly, who would pay any attention to her?

And yes, Rachel could be marvelously self-centered, but she could also be rather sweet. She'd been so understanding of Kurt's situation, and though her approach was most definitely _wrong_ , she had tried to help. And it wasn't as if her appreciation of her own talent wasn't justified. Much as Quinn hated to admit it, whenever she wasn't focusing on the fact that it was Rachel singing, she really rather enjoyed her voice, the way she enjoyed Mercedes', and the way she had appreciated Shelby's, the first time she'd heard it.

And, well, even though Rachel's style was atrocious on first glance, it was also sort of...fitting. She was a little childish. But perhaps that wasn't the right way to describe its relation to her personality. All the bright colors, the animals, the mix and match, the argyle - no. It wasn't childishness after all, though that didn't mean Quinn wouldn't still laugh at Santana's jokes about it. It was optimism. Brightness. Radiance. Cuteness.

All this consideration of Rachel Berry and her personality was all in the service, of course, of figuring out what Quinn's next seven gifts to Rachel were going to be. Because if Quinn was going to keep buying her thoughtful gifts - less expensive gifts, but still thoughtful - at least in order to keep from feeling guilty - then she was going to have to examine what she knew about Rachel. And Rachel was cute. Ish.

So Quinn had outlined some cute sort of things she could get for Rachel. She had also thought more about New York and Broadway themed things. Surely there were trinkets related to those about the mall _somewhere_. She spent most of Sunday perusing the shops all over again, deciding to drop in on the Mac store while she was at it - she hadn't bothered with it on previous visits. But then she found something that would be quite perfect. A phone cover with a picture of Times Square at night on it. And it would be fitting and thoughtful and perfect.

If Quinn knew what kind of phone Rachel had, anyway. Most people she knew had iPhones these days, but Rachel was kind of old-fashioned sometimes. And other people had Samsung. And Quinn wasn't about to shell out another set of Benjamin Franklins to get Rachel a new phone _and_ a case. She didn't even have Rachel's number. But she did have Finn's, and that was the next best thing. So she put the phone case under her arm and texted him.

'What kind of phone does Rachel have?'

A few moments later, he responded, 'y?'

'I'm taking a survey.'

'is tht 4 intro 2 biz?'

Quinn rolled her eyes. 'Sure.'

'i dn't no.'

'Then can you ask her, please?'

'we broke up'

'Everyone and their mother knows this. Grow up and ask her.'

'u ask!'

'I don't have her number.'

Finally, Finn was useful, because after a moment, he texted back the number, and Quinn was quick to copy it into her contacts and start all over again - this time with Rachel, decided that while it might give her away, she didn't particularly care about that and it would definitely be easier than trying to dig the information out of Finn.

'What kind of phone do you have?'

'Who is this?'

Quinn sighed, tapping her foot on the tile floor. 'Quinn. I got your number from Finn.'

'Oh. To ask me what kind of phone I have?'

'I'm taking a survey for a class.'

'You couldn't have waited to ask me on Monday?'

'Are you going to answer me or not?'

'It's an iPhone.'

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome, Quinn.'

Quinn nodded to herself, stuffed her phone in her pocket, and marched off to the cash register to purchase the phone case. And while she was at it, she decided, she'd buy a new roll of wrapping paper. Maybe something pink, or with gold stars. Definitely golden ribbon to tie it off with. But before she could get to the next store, her phone buzzed again.

'Are you going to answer ME?'

'Answer what?'

'You couldn't have waited to ask me on Monday?'

Quinn smirked to herself. 'No.'

'Why not?'

'It was all a ploy to get your number.'

'Why would you want my number?'

'So I can write it on the bathroom walls next to my artwork.'

'I can't tell if you're joking or not.'

Quinn cracked a grin in spite of herself, imagining the horror on the little brunette's face. It wouldn't hurt to tease her just a little more, would it? 'Of course I'm joking. I keep my artwork in my own private journals now.'

'I hope they're more flattering than the ones in the bathrooms, at least.'

'You'll never know.'

'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were beginning to warm up to me, Quinn.'

Quinn paused, eyebrow quirking. 'What would give you that idea?'

'You could've said no drawing of me could be flattering, or something to that effect.'

She cleared her throat and frowned. It took her a moment to type back. 'It's possible you're not as hideous as I've claimed in the past.'

It was true, after all. Rachel wasn't _hideous_. She was cute-ish. As Quinn had thought before. She had that way of wrinkling her nose when she was pleased as punch. And tucking her hair behind her ear just so. Her hair was pretty, too, thick and long. And it made her big brown eyes pop even more than they already did on their own. And -

'I consider that a monumental compliment coming from you, Quinn. Thank you. :)'

Quinn cleared her throat again. She stuffed the phone away and kept walking. That was enough of that. No more indulging Rachel Berry with conversation.

#

Quinn was rather pleased with herself when she came in to deliver her gift on Monday morning, and Mr. Schuester seemed pleased with her, too. After all, she had bought something, again, wrapped it very neatly in brand new navy blue paper decorated with golden stars, and tied it off with an equally neat golden bow. That was effort. That was kindness and dedication. That was thoughtfulness.

Just like her own Secret Santa, who this time had wrapped up something that was suspiciously shaped like a book. It was fitting with their category, of course. Book light, booksleeve, and now an actual book. Quinn decided to change things up and read the note first this time, brow furrowing as she read, 'To give you some ideas! -SS'

It all became clear when she opened up the package. She knew in an instant not only exactly what the note meant, but exactly who her Secret Santa was. Because there was only one person who could be so brazen, so annoying, so backhanded as to give her Low Voice Solos No. 1: Sacred Songs For Alto, Contralto, Baritone, or Bass Singers.

Rachel freaking Berry. That bitch.


	7. Day 7

Low Voice Solos. Sacred Songs. As if Quinn couldn't sing songs in a higher key. Sure, she was an alto, but she had a high alto. A light alto. And she didn't _only_ sing holy or spiritual songs, Christianity was not her only identity. And as if she couldn't pick out her own goddamn songs and sing whenever she goddamn well pleased. It was just like Rachel to butter her up with something and then crack it down with something like this. An insult.

And the book was like, from the 60s or 80s or something. It was old, obviously from a used bookstore. Never mind the fact that Quinn loved used bookstores and loved old books and their old musty smell. Rachel probably didn't know that. No, she definitely didn't, because Quinn didn't talk to midget freaks about her likes and dislikes, and Rachel was a midget freak.

And if she wanted to give offensive books, so be it. Quinn would give one right back. And she'd wrap it nice and neat, too, and put a sweet little ribbon on it like the last gift, so Mr. Schuester _and_ Rachel would have no idea what awaited her. It would serve her right for pulling another punch at Quinn's singing abilities.

#

Yesterday's gift had been in line with Rachel's theory about Finn. A phone case with Times Square at night on it? It was beautiful, it was perfect, it was just for her. It was a step forward, his respect for her dreams shining through, his admiration for her singing voice. And though Rachel had found it a _little_ suspicious that Quinn asked her what kind of phone she had right before she got a phone case for a gift, she _had_ said that Finn had given her her number. Maybe he'd asked Quinn to ask Rachel so that he wouldn't seem so suspicious.

Besides, according to Mercedes, they really did have a project assigning them to take surveys on a product in Introduction to Business, so even if it wasn't related to her gift, Quinn was probably telling the truth. And being very friendly while doing so. Well, friendly for Quinn. It was definitely a step in the right direction, and Rachel couldn't deny herself a few smiles whenever she thought about their conversation. She'd realized that Quinn had actually been _teasing_ her. Which meant there really was a human being in there, like she'd always suspected. With a sense of humor and everything.

Rachel was practically giddy over it.

But all that left her with quite a conundrum when she opened up her next gift. The note was quite different in tone in comparison to the last one she'd received, which had read, 'Think the Big Apple is ready for the Big Berry?' It almost reminded her of the way Quinn texted, that cheeky tone. This one, however, said, 'A little guidance for the inept on this holiday season.'

That was odd enough on its own, an almost snotty note when they'd been so witty and light lately. And then Rachel opened it up and found a book, which was entitled The Power of the Pussy: Get What You Want From Men: Love, Respect, Commitment, and More!

Rachel's brain had frozen at the word 'pussy,' however, and it took her several rereads to comprehend the rest of the title. Pussy. This couldn't possibly be a gift from Finn, could it? Unless he wanted her to read the book to learn more about their relationship, or if he was insulting the way she had dealt with their relationship up until then? But guidance for the inept didn't sound like the latter, and inept didn't seem like a word Finn would use, and this book didn't seem like one Finn would buy.

Pussy. Couldn't the author have used a different word? One that didn't make Rachel blush and squirm in her chair and didn't make it so hard to think?

Honestly, what did someone have to think of her to buy something like this for her? It seemed like something Santana would buy, but Santana was definitely, _definitely_ Lauren's. It could be Noah. Noah was definitely the type, but then there was the expensive, gorgeous necklace and the word 'inept' and what if he had _stolen_ it? That was entirely too possible for Rachel's tastes.

Pussy.

The feeling of Quinn's eyes on her wasn't helping Rachel's situation with that word. It shouldn't have been a turn-on just to see the word; this was embarrassing. Why would anyone give her this book? And what was with these gifts? They'd gone from printing out sheet music to copying her gifts to Quinn to being really thoughtful to pussy?

Rachel knew the 'p' word wasn't the point, but now she couldn't stop thinking about it. Or the odd patterning of her presents, and so once she'd gotten herself under control, when Mr. Schuester let them all go for the evening, she went into his office, clutching the book to her chest.

"Mr. Schue?"

"What is it, Rachel?"

She cleared her throat. "I know it's against the rules for you to tell me _who_ , but…"

He frowned at her curiously.

"I have had the _same_ Secret Santa all along, right?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes…"

Rachel bit her lip. "Okay. Thank you."

She was going to have to make a proper list and work this out. Tonight, if possible.

#

It was another book. This time, the note read, 'For inspiration! -SS' and the book was Open Your Heart with Singing: Mastering Life Through Love of Song. Definitely, definitely, Quinn's Secret Santa was Rachel Berry. And maybe, just maybe, Quinn had overreacted about the first book. It was possible. Perhaps.

Perhaps she'd been _looking_ for a reason to be pissed with Rachel, after feeling so warm and chummy about her while they'd been texting and teasing. It was possible. Maybe.

After all, Rachel was always trying to get _everyone_ more involved with glee and she probably thought it was a rather nice gift. Maybe she did know Quinn liked used and old books; maybe she'd seen her carrying them more often than brand new novels.

But before Quinn could begin to feel guilty about her vengeful gift, she noticed something odd about the way Rachel reacted to the book. Her cheeks had gone an attractive shade of ruddy red and her thighs clamped together - she had nice legs. Really nice legs. And her thighs appeared to have some firm muscle in them. And Rachel's eyes were wide, too, her chest slightly heaving. And because of that, Quinn's own breathing became a bit thicker, watching small breasts rise and fall.

It took Quinn a moment to realize that she was getting turned on by Rachel getting turned on. By the book, though? By the book, though. The Power of Pussy. Pussy.

Quinn's eyebrow cocked, and she couldn't help the sly smirk that slid over her lips. Rachel Berry turned on by pussy? This could get very interesting.


	8. Day 8

It wasn't as if Quinn hadn't thought about Rachel in a sexual manner before. Those drawings on the bathroom walls were proof enough of that. And it wasn't a big deal. One could easily be sexually attracted to someone they didn't particularly like. After all, Quinn had had the occasional thought about Santana, and Santana was an evil bitch.

Except Rachel wasn't an evil bitch and Quinn didn't exactly... _not_ like her anymore. She was cute. And, all right goddammit, she was beautiful, even kind of sexy sometimes. So Rachel wasn't a classic beauty like Audrey Hepburn or Jane Seymour. She wasn't classic hot like Marilyn Monroe, either. She was an exotic kind of beauty. Unique. It kind of made her even more attractive, although the used bookstore was not the time or place to go down that road.

So Quinn was attracted to Rachel. It would probably fade like other crushes, feelings - musings - for girls she'd had before and she could go back to pretending that guys were sexually appealing to her. It wasn't bad kissing them. Sometimes she got a thrill from that. Occasionally. Okay, never, but it wasn't _bad_. Sam was particularly sweet to kiss, with his plump lips and his clean shaven face. It was kind of nice, even. She could live with it.

Besides, it was a purely physical crush. Rachel being cute had nothing to do with it. Nor did her sweetness. Although she was rather sweet, buying Quinn Cheerio red winter protection and then the book light and the booksleeve. Paying attention not only to Quinn's likes and dislikes, but ignoring Rachel's own problems with the Cheerios in the gift giving spirit. And her little notes were rather adorable on their own. Impish and happy, those little exclamation points always standing proud at the end.

It was possible Quinn liked Rachel. Maybe. But that didn't mean she had to admit it to anyone. It could be her own private little thought.

On the other hand. She was Quinn Fabray, and Rachel had been turned on by the mere suggestion of female genitalia. So she could very easily _make_ this crush go away if she wanted to. She had this stupid assignment at her disposal, after all; it could become her own little game. But she'd have to be subtle. Not like the last book, picked out of vengeful anger. This one had to be more careful than that, to get Rachel thinking more about the joys of the female body without sending her crying to Mr. Schuester about these inappropriate gifts.

He already had his hands full trying to convince Santana to get Lauren something that _wasn't_ related to weight loss, anyway.

Oh, and - Quinn suddenly had the perfect book in mind. Something along the lines of Rachel's interests, something she might even be eager to read, but still angled to Quinn's designs. If the bookstore had a copy, she'd be set. And fortunately, after a little digging through the racks, she found one, dusted it off, and smirked all the way to the register. Perfect.

#

We Can Always Call Them Bulgarians. It was a curious title, in Rachel's opinion, and an even more curious note this time: 'Perhaps you can help with this in the future.' It certainly wasn't as provocative as the last title she'd received, and the note no longer had that snappish quality to that. But nor had it gone back to dry wit. This note felt different. This book felt different. Once again, Rachel's Secret Santa had switched directions, and she had no idea what to make of it.

A perusal of the back and the first few pages told her that it was another thoughtful gift, however, like the jewelry and the phone case. The book was about gay and lesbian roles on the American stage, including Broadway and the part it played in bringing these more 'eccentric' characters to life. Gay and lesbian roles, though. And the note suggesting Rachel could help with that.

If Kurt hadn't been at Dalton and unable to participate in this little game, Rachel would've guessed it was him right off. Between the dating guide and this, the copycat gifts and the sheet music? Prior to their little bonding sessions, he definitely would've fit the bill, the lack of effort, the insulting tone to the last gift, and then this one? The only thing that felt truly out of place in this theory was the jewelry.

Of course, the jewelry felt out of place for everyone. All the other gifts were sort of possible, if not probable, for any other glee member in the room. But the expense of the jewelry, the beauty and extravagance of it. Who would care enough to get that for her? And why would they then turn around and give her something like The Power of the Pussy?

Rachel blushed again just thinking of that book, tucked away under her bed where her fathers wouldn't spy it. Where no one would spy it. And then she realized - the 'p' word and then lesbian roles. Was her Secret Santa a girl? Was her Secret Santa a gay girl, trying to…? Trying to what? A guide on dating men didn't fit. Maybe it was one of the boys, making fun of her after seeing how she'd reacted to the 'p' word. Except why not be more brazen then and get her Lesbian Ethics or something?

None of this made any sense, and there were only four gifts left to go. How was she going to figure this out by next Tuesday?

#

Rachel had gotten Quinn a diary. According to the note, 'To help express yourself while you're working on the books! -SS'. Express herself. Sure. At least she knew what the theme of the next three gifts were. They'd gone from winter protection to books to 'express yourself.' Who knew what the last three would be, and Quinn could only make guesses as to the last one in this particular set, after a self-help book and a diary. Where else did one go with that theme?

At least it meant Quinn had some empty pages to scribble on while she covertly watched Rachel's reaction to her own little present. She'd gone from curious and interested to puzzled and thinking since opening it up, and unfortunately, Rachel's puzzled, thinking face was cute, too. She nibbled on her plump bottom lip quite often in the process, and her knees popped up together, as though her entire body was straining for answers. Another thing about Rachel - she put her all into everything she did.

It was getting a bit sad how often Quinn thought about Rachel now. Eight (school) days ago, Rachel was barely a blip on the radar. Just an occasional annoyance she had to brush off and ignore, and now she couldn't stop thinking about the little midget. About her cuteness, about her legs and her body, about her sweetness, about her eyes and her hair, about her ambition and talent, about her nose - just about Rachel. All the damn time, too. There wasn't a single class period that went by without wondering what she should get Rachel next, or wondering what she was thinking when they shared a class, or daydreaming about how Rachel looked when she was turned on, all flushed and ready.

It was no longer a mere option. Quinn _needed_ to get rid of this crush.


	9. Day 9

So in order to get rid of this crush, Quinn would have to be a bit kinder in her next gift. After all, at the end of this stupid assignment, they would all be revealing themselves to each other, and Rachel would find out she'd given her the cheap sheet music and the copycat gifts and the insulting dating guide. She needed something aside from the jewelry and the phone case to cushion the blow. Something flirtatious and persuasive.

It was quite difficult to find anything matching that description in the Lima Mall. Quinn had been there so many times in the past two weeks the items and stores were all beginning to blur together, and she passed by previously considered options like they weren't even there. All the shops seemed useless, selling cheap junk not worthy of Quinn's purpose. Not even the biggest clothing store had one appropriate item that she could find, except perhaps the newest perfume on the stand, and though that particular perfume's scent was wretched, she wondered if perhaps she hadn't given Bath and Body Works enough of a chance.

After all, perfume was one of the most sensual gifts a person could offer. Something that said, 'I want to breathe this from your skin.' And it was a perfectly natural woman-to-woman gift, something that wouldn't be questioned by other glee club members when they all discovered each other. And while she was at it, she could purchase a matching lotion or cream, moisturizer - or maybe bubble bath solution - or candles - of the same scent. For future gifts.

Decided, Quinn was about to head back in that direction when she spotted a very familiar head of brunette hair by a rack of very bright shirts on clearance, and she couldn't resist the impulse. She slipped up behind Rachel, admiring the tight skirt over her rear for just a moment or two before she leaned in to prompt, " _More_ Christmas shopping? And I'd have thought you'd have it all done."

It was completely worth it. Rachel practically jumped into the air before she whirled about, a flustered smile and flush rising up on her face as she looked up at Quinn and adjusted the stack of shirts already hanging over an arm.

"Oh! Quinn. Um." Her brunette head shook quickly, trying to get her bearings back, and Quinn smirked. "Actually, I have finished with all of my Christmas and Hanukkah shopping; tonight I'm out for me. I wanted to buy a few new cheap shirts in case the slushies start up again now that Finn and I are no longer an item."

Quinn's smirk dropped. "I see."

Rachel smiled, settled from her fright. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

She bit on her bottom lip, and Quinn watched white teeth pull at a pink lip with interest. "What are you doing here?"

"Secret Santa shopping," she said absently.

The teeth let loose to allow the spread of a pretty smile. "I hope you're not doing this every night - stalking the mall for ideas."

Quinn's eyebrow quirked and she found Rachel tilting her head. "Stalking?"

Instantly, a ruddy red took over Rachel's cheeks. "Yeah, you know...not like a creepy stalker like Robert John Bardo or-or Edward from Twilight or anything, but you know, you have this air about you."

Quinn's eyebrow went higher, and Rachel went redder. "An air?"

"Yes, like...like a big cat in a zoo. Pacing in your cage, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Beautiful, but-but deadly." Rachel cleared her throat, shifting the clothes in her arms as she folded them across her breasts.

Perky, round breasts. Quinn recalled the way they'd heaved, almost like they were doing right now, only the motion was smaller, less noticeable - and out of nerves, not arousal. Glitter caught her eye, and Quinn tilted her head. The shirt on top read 'Pussycat.' She assumed, from the pink tail arching up around the glittery words, there was a cat underneath it, but she couldn't let it pass.

Quinn motioned at the shirts. "Let me see what you've picked out."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "Wh - really?"

She only raised her eyebrows, and Rachel was quick to swing them around by their hangers. Sure enough, there was a pink kitty cat arching its back underneath the dreadful 'pussycat,' and Quinn shook her head, taking it in hand.

"I can't let you buy this."

Rachel's lower lip poked out cutely. "But it's so cute, look at - "

"Just trust me. You do not want to walk into school in this. Santana will have a field day even if you don't get a slushie bath first thing." Quinn hung it up and dug through the clearance rack until she found something else with a fluffy cat on it - this time just a painting of some playful kittens on a yellow shirt. "Here. Try this one."

Rachel's eyebrows rose for a moment, but she took the top carefully. "Oh...thank you, Quinn. It's adorable."

She nodded once. "Anytime."

Rachel's smile went almost blinding. "Is-is there anything I can maybe help _you_ with?"

"Not at the moment." Quinn cleared her throat before the deflation could take full effect in Rachel's face. "But I'll let you know if anything comes up." She considered that pretty, happy face for a moment longer before she gestured away. "I should get back to my shopping."

Rachel's deflation started all over again. "Right."

Quinn got no more than three steps away before a speeding bullet of brunette hair trotted in front of her.

"Wait! Did you want to, um...maybe get some hot chocolate in the food court? We could talk about...celibacy club or-or whatever you'd like," Rachel rushed out, smiling brightly. It was definitely blinding this time.

Quinn brushed her tongue over her dry lips and smirked. "I can't have you seeing my gift, that'll spoil everything, as you've pointed out before."

Rachel bit her lip again. "Right…"

"But how about a raincheck? Meet you by the Cinnabon on Saturday at noon."

Rachel beamed. "That sounds perfect!"

"Great then." Quinn couldn't help the mischievousness in her voice as she added, "It's a date," and strolled off with a sway to her hips.

Getting rid of this crush was going to be a cinch.

#

Mr. Schuester was pleased with Quinn's offering the next morning, and Quinn was supremely pleased with herself as well. She had a date on Saturday with Rachel; she had all day Thursday and Friday to tease Rachel about it, shooting her winks and smirks at her leisure; she had the perfect lineup of presents picked out for the last four days of this ridiculousness; and she had all of Christmas break after that to woo and seduce Rachel Berry and end her silly crush on the girl.

When they all collected their gifts for the afternoon at glee, Quinn sat back to watch Rachel open up hers first, to watch the attractive blush redden her sweet round face as she read Quinn's note, and then open up the gift - a bottle of Dark Kiss - and bite once again on that abused, plump pink lip. How Quinn could make her abuse it with a dark kiss of her own…

"What'd you get, Quinn?"

Brittany was nudging her, and Quinn reluctantly broke from her fantasy to tug open the gift and glance over the note, which read, 'For when you don't feel like talking! -SS' Her eyebrow arched high with curiosity until she popped off the top of the box to find a white shirt with black lettering, reading proudly down the front, 'NOT IN THE MOOD.'

No matter how she tried, Quinn couldn't stop herself from busting out laughing, and when she received one too many looks and questions from her fellow glee clubbers, she proudly pulled the top on and smirked at them all, particularly at one surprised but pleased-looking, red-cheeked Rachel Berry.

Perhaps Rachel knew her a little better than Quinn thought. Perhaps it was a little more than a crush. Maybe. It was possible.


	10. Day 10

Since Quinn was now a present ahead of the game and her eleventh present wasn't something she could buy at a mall or anywhere else in Lima, she spent Thursday night in, diligently working on that eleventh present - along with picking up and setting down her cell phone multiple times in a row. Considering whether she should text Rachel or leave things be until Saturday. The most logical part of her - or rather, the most devious part - the one that still wanted to simply get what she wanted and get out where it came to Rachel Berry, told her it was best to wait.

After all, she didn't have an excuse for texting her this time. So if she did, it would be like it was because she _wanted to_. Never mind the fact that she did. That she was finding it enjoyable talking to Rachel, on the rare occasions in which they had. It was the principle of the thing and besides, it was all about the teasing, not the pleasing. Keep them wanting, keep them waiting, they'll only want it more with anticipating.

But then there was the other part. The part she liked to call Lucy. Who rather liked to argue with Devious Quinn and Charlie. Charlie being the one with the physical desire for the ladies, and at the moment, Rachel Berry in particular. The one who had spurred a series of pornographic fantasies to be spread all over the bathroom walls over a year ago. It was Devious Quinn who had made them insulting. And Lovely Lucy who had argued against both of them.

Quinn did her best not to overanalyze the naming and arguing of the various warring wants in her head. Everyone had them, after all, they just called them the Id, the Ego, and the Superego instead. Or at least Freud had called them that. In any case, Quinn preferred not to think of herself as crazy. Just...complicated. And this crush or maybe more over Rachel Berry was complicated.

At the moment because the Lucy part wanted to forget about Charlie's lust and Quinn's plans and be...genuine, or something. She wanted to call Rachel, text her. Ask her what was up, what was she doing tonight. Spark a conversation. A friendship. A relationship. No more games.

Waiting seemed better. But Quinn hadn't really acknowledged Rachel all day. Save for the smirk she had favored her with on receiving her new favorite shirt. She intended to wear it for every dinner with her mother for the rest of her life, and any time she had plans to see Puck or Santana, too. And maybe Finn, as well. Aside from the book light and the booksleeve, it was probably Quinn's favorite gift thus far. And definitely her favorite gift out of the 'express yourself' theme.

Tomorrow the last fourth of the gifts would begin, the last three. Quinn was mightily tempted, because of that, to prompt Rachel on what the last theme would be. What would she follow winter protection, books, and express yourself with? She had already kind of covered the singing aspect of Quinn's life, after all, and Quinn would have thought Rachel would make that her big finale, if anything.

But Rachel was being thoughtful about Quinn. Not about herself. In that case, it was a surprise she hadn't ended with the books. But maybe she had something different in mind. Something even more like Quinn - or at least, more like her as far as the general public or Rachel knew.

Quinn should have done something similar. A build up to something wonderful, like a book signed by Barbra Streisand or tickets to a Broadway show. All along leaving clever notes with hidden clues to the next gifts. She should've played it as a game to surprise and delight Rachel with, to make her smile and wrinkle her cute nose at each gift. But this was hindsight, after all.

Nine (school) days ago, a scrap of sheet music had seemed like the best thing Quinn could come up with for Rachel Berry. Now, Rachel Berry was a sweet and thoughtful and beautiful little thing that deserved sweet and thoughtful and beautiful little gifts. And it was possible Quinn Fabray liked Rachel Berry and wanted to give her those sweet and thoughtful and beautiful little gifts far beyond a silly Secret Santa exchange. Maybe.

#

Friday was perhaps the most pathetic day Quinn Fabray had ever spent. Everywhere she went, Rachel seemed to be, and wherever Rachel was, Quinn's eyes followed. She even thought Rachel had caught her staring once or twice. No, she definitely had - considering the way she blushed and shifted in her chair right afterward. Quinn tried to play it off with a wink, a smirk, a roll of her eyes at the teacher. Rachel's blush only deepened with each gesture.

Rachel was an attentive little student, Quinn noticed. Always sitting straight up, ready to raise her hand, answer a question. Or alternately hunched over her notebook, writing madly. It was adorable. Like everything Rachel did.

Including the impatient way she opened her presents, when it was finally time at the end of the day again - with a combined restraint and speed. Like she wanted to tear it open like a wild woman, screw the wrapping, but at the same time, wished to do so neatly, without ripping the wrapping. But when Rachel finally got down to the note and the bottle of bubble bath solution and the box containing a candle, both supposedly made with the scent of New York autumn - though Quinn had serious doubts about that - she grinned and pressed the box and bottle each to her nose, looking as content as could be.

Brittany once again had to nudge Quinn to open her present, and when she did, it was to find a bottle of her own. But this was a bottle of massage oils, and the note read, 'To work out the stiffness! -SS'

Quinn's eyebrows popped up on her forehead. She recalled - with an effort - that Rachel had bought all her presents prior to the entire gift exchange and so there was no possible way she knew that Quinn was her Secret Santa and was now replying with a more intimate theme herself. But then what the hell was this theme?

#

Rachel had no idea about her Secret Santa anymore. She'd crossed off pretty much everyone on the list she'd made. It was in alphabetical order by first name, and each time Rachel ticked down the names, she found at least one reason the person didn't fit the bill.

Artie? No, he wouldn't buy her jewelry or perfume; he had Brittany, and no interest in Rachel since they met.

Brittany? She was certainly a sweet girl, and the jumble of gifts would make a bit more sense coming from her, but the notes were too...well, well-written. And expensive jewelry? Unlikely.

Finn? Now that she thought about it, how on earth would he have afforded that necklace and earring set? And even if he had been able to, the notes simply weren't like him at all. They were cheeky and witty and - well, the one had been rather sharp, but he wasn't that, either.

Lauren? No need to entertain that idea.

Mercedes was the straightest woman Rachel knew, come to think of it, and jewelry and perfume just seemed too flirtatious - and expensive - to be friendly.

Mike had no interest in her either, for the same reasons as Artie; only he had Tina.

Noah was a serious possibility. After all, he might've stolen the jewelry, as much as Rachel loathed the idea of it, and of giving it up. And he'd been interested in her before. Though he seemed very much into Lauren at the moment. Not that that would ever stop him. But still, the notes were too...smart and subtle.

Really, wouldn't Noah Puckerman write 'let's suck face' if he gave her a note with a bottle of perfume called Dark Kiss? Not 'Save this for a special knight.' The word play - knight and night - the tone - Rachel could practically hear it purred in her ear by a low, husky voice, the way Quinn had husked in her ear when she snuck up on her in the store. And wouldn't Noah write 'hope you think of me while you're masturbating' or something equally crude with a candle and a bubble bath solution that would probably smell like lavender or roses, not New York autumn with a note reading, 'For your pleasure, until you can be there.'

And oh, Rachel could imagine Quinn saying that, too. She could imagine Quinn saying a lot of things, and had since she'd received those damnable books that opened her mind back up to thoughts she'd thought she'd long since locked away. Thoughts of Quinn and how beautiful she was, especially when she smiled and said 'It's a date' and swayed her hips as she walked away. But Quinn couldn't be her Secret Santa.

Certainly, Quinn had been kinder lately. A lot kinder, between the times they'd bumped into each other at the mall - like night and day. The first time, Quinn had been so clearly anxious to get away, to escape small talk, or any talk with Rachel. And then last night, she'd approached. She'd teased, she'd helped Rachel. She'd agreed to meet and talk with her. The closeness, the friendship, Rachel had imagined coming from this whole thing was within reach.

But did that mean Quinn Fabray would go so far as to buy Rachel not only an expensive set of jewelry with obsidian musical notes embedded in silver, not only a phone case with a picture of Times Square at night, but a sensual scent of perfume, a sweet kind of candle and bubble bath - and _flirt_ with Rachel via note?

Rachel thought not. But still, looking down the list again, knowing it couldn't be Artie or Brittany or Lauren or Mercedes or Mike or Santana or Tina, _hoping_ it wasn't Finn or Noah or Sam, Rachel couldn't help but hope. Just a little bit.


	11. Saturday

Quinn spent her Friday night occupied with Rachel's eleventh gift and ignoring the temptation to text Rachel. She even had an excuse this time - to confirm their plans for noon by the Cinnabon. But Rachel had the same excuse, after all, and Quinn stuck to her guns. She even managed not to worry over her appearance until the next morning, and then she spent an hour picking out an outfit for underneath her winter garb - including the red earmuffs, gloves, and scarf Rachel had given her - and another hour applying her makeup before she finally headed out the door to meet with Rachel.

There Rachel stood, at noon near the Cinnabon, as planned, turning her snowflake mittens and hat in her hands, scarf hanging loose around an unzipped sky blue winter coat, biting her plump pink lip with nerves, occasionally twirling a strand of thick brunette hair. Quinn smirked to herself and stuffed her gloves and earmuffs away as she approached, raising her chin and nodding when Rachel caught sight of her. Her round cheeks had gone a shade darker and she waved with the same enthusiastic restraint she opened her presents with - like she wanted to be flailing her arm, but held back all the same.

"Good afternoon," Quinn greeted, tugging her scarf loose from her neck.

Rachel's nose wrinkled with her smile. "Good afternoon, Quinn. Lovely scarf."

She smirked - how very unsubtle. Adorable. "Thank you. Yours, too."

"Thank you!" Rachel spun it around her hand for a moment, admiring a big white snowflake. "It was one of my Secret Santa presents."

"I know." She chuckled, watching Rachel's blush deepen.

A moment of silence passed between them, as Rachel faltered, muttered, 'oh, right,' and then fell completely silent. Her cheeks were bright red, a combination of wind burn, heat in a heavy coat in the already well-heated mall, and embarrassment. Even her ears turned a few shades darker. Quinn couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, come on." Quinn snatched up Rachel's unencumbered hand and drew her behind, smirking all the while as she felt Rachel gain her bearings and trot to keep up and sputter.

"O-okay, wait - where are we going?"

"You said you needed cheap shirts, right?"

"Well, yes, but - "

"So, we need to find you some that aren't so very slushie-drawing."

Quinn stopped them next to a clearance rack of the largest clothing store in the place, buried deep behind the plus-sizes and maternity wear. Rachel pulled up beside her as she instantly started pilfering through, rejecting most but handing a few more attractive tops over for Rachel to hold. She didn't seem to know what to say - for once - and the conflicted expression on her face each time Quinn handed over a new item only managed to amuse her more

Once they had been through nearly every clearance rack in sight and both their arms were full, Quinn was satisfied and steered Rachel off to the dressing rooms, stealing a booth for the two of them and hanging up the bundles of clothes on the hooks around the walls. Rachel stood awkwardly once her arms were empty, and Quinn slid off her own winter coat with a smile.

"Well, come on, try something."

Rachel gnawed on her lip again, but mimicked Quinn in taking off her coat and scarf - but paused once she reached her shirt, which happened to be Cheerio red. Her cheeks matched the color when she glanced up at Quinn and the shirts around them. Quinn smiled.

"I'm going to have to see them on you if I'm going to make an educated decision - but I can step out if you're too shy," she teased lowly, but Rachel piped up for the first time in what felt like ages as soon as Quinn backed toward the door.

"No!" Her cheeks were even darker than the top now. "No, it's okay." Still, she didn't move to take her shirt off. She only stood there, grasping for words as she stared up at Quinn nervously. "I'm just not used to all this, Quinn," she managed finally.

Quinn allowed herself a step or two closer, brow furrowing. "All what?"

"This." Rachel gestured between them. "Like...having a girls' day and shopping an-and you helping me and smiling at me and being nice to me. Not that you've been mean - lately - but - "

"But it's weird," Quinn concluded.

Rachel looked about to protest, but deflated rather quickly. "Kind of. That's not to say I don't like it, though! I'm-I've really enjoyed the last few days and talking with you, when we do. And I'm really glad you've chosen to spend time with me and to give me a chance to be your friend, even if it is only because I'm pathetically hopeless when it comes to picking out clothes, even for being slushied, and you just can't stand to watch it anymore."

Quinn's eyebrow slid up as Rachel silenced herself with a little giggle and, much as she fought it, her own lip curled in response. "Well."

Rachel waited, almost seeming to hold her breath, those big beautiful doe eyes staring hopefully up at Quinn.

"You're not all bad," she admitted. Rachel's beam was too bright to look directly at, but Quinn couldn't resist encouraging its beauty. "In fact, you're...mostly good."

"Really?" Rachel's teeth were digging at her lip again, and God, her eyes were so big and wide.

Quinn hardly found the energy to nod. "Really."

"What prompted this change of heart? Or mind, or…"

She shrugged, clearing her throat - Rachel's grin hadn't faded. "I guess you're just not as annoying when you're not with Finn," she deadpanned, only thinking better of it when the words were already out.

But to Quinn's surprise, Rachel laughed, full-bodied and freely. "I suppose I _did_ get a little carried away sometimes."

She couldn't help a wry smirk. "Maybe a tad."

Rachel just giggled. "Okay, what top first?"

Quinn lifted her hands from where they'd naturally come to rest on her hips, humming out, 'let's see' as she stepped up to one of the piles against the wall and tugging out a striped top on sale for three bucks because of its sloped and stretched neckline - she imagined Rachel's bare shoulder would be incredibly attractive, though, so she'd grabbed it anyway. And upon turning around, Quinn found she was quite right. Rachel's bare shoulders were saliva-inducing attractive. As was the flat expanse of her stomach, and the red bra against her tan skin, and her perky breasts encased in its cups.

Quinn passed over the shirt. "This one."

Rachel smiled and tugged it on, and it dropped nicely on her right shoulder, and Quinn could breathe easier for the time being.

"What do you think?" Rachel tilted her head at herself in the full length mirror.

"Beautiful." The word was out before Quinn could think twice about it, and once again, Rachel was grinning blindingly at her.

"Really?"

Quinn nodded only once. "Really."

Rachel's grin only brightened before she looked back into the mirror again. "First not so hideous, then not all bad, now this? I think you're definitely starting to warm up to me, Quinn Fabray."

Another wry smirk crept onto Quinn's lips. "Oh, you have no idea."

#

They spent another two hours darting between the dressing room and the clearance racks - and even a few non-clearance racks when Rachel insisted Quinn should try some things on, too. Quinn was quick to oblige, rather enjoying the sudden silence from behind her every time she took her top off. Rachel wound up with two bags of tops, and while Quinn only purchased three tops for herself, she left the store amazed at how much _fun_ she'd had. Not just trying on clothes, but with Rachel.

Rachel was cute and silly and sweet, like Quinn had been thinking about her for some time now, but it was one thing to start thinking of Rachel in better ways - it was another to experience it. It was another to see her get so into their little shopping extravaganza she struck poses and hear her lavish compliments over how Quinn looked amazing in everything. It was one thing to mentally acknowledge her crush on the little Berry; it was another to feel the flutter in her tummy when Rachel grinned at her and the rush of arousal when Rachel spent too long with only a bra on her top half.

They went to a few more of the smaller clothing stores before Rachel's stomach started to rumble and they returned to the food court for something cheap and quick. Quinn grabbed them each a hot chocolate from Cinnabon - soy for Rachel, of course - and a cinnamon roll for herself to dive into. She and her mom hadn't had any time to make any yet, and seeing as they were her favorite part of the holiday season, Quinn just couldn't wait any longer.

Rachel, on the other hand, seemed bemused and then amused by Quinn's enjoyment of it. So much so that Quinn had to prompt, "What?" around a mouthful, because Rachel's eyebrows had gone too high to be acceptable.

"Nothing! I just didn't think you were a sweets person," Rachel assured quickly, but she was still smiling.

Quinn swallowed down her bite. "I'm not. But cinnamon rolls aren't just sweets; they're warm, luscious, moist pieces of gooey delight."

Rachel was biting down on her lip and turning red again - but now it was to muffle her laughter, it seemed, because her whole body was shaking.

Quinn raised her eyebrow again. "What?"

"I've just never heard you describe anything that way. Or talk like that. Ever," Rachel giggled out from behind her hands.

"That's how good they are," she answered sagely and took another bite to prove her point.

Rachel grinned. "I wouldn't know."

Quinn gulped down again - another savored bite wasted. "You've never had a cinnamon roll?"

Rachel shrugged. "My dads don't do much baking and most bakeries don't make things in vegan friendly ways. They still use eggs and whole milk for the batter."

She narrowed her eyes. "We're going to have to rectify that."

"How?" she giggled.

"Come over to mine. We'll make a batch. Vegan friendly," Quinn offered, scooping away some of the extraneous icing on top.

"Really?"

Rachel was staring at her with doe eyes again, and Quinn smiled, another butterfly dancing in her stomach.

"Really."

#

After an emergency stop in the bookstore and then the music store, where Quinn bought two more books and Rachel bought two more CDs, respectively, Quinn drove them off to the grocery store to pick up the necessary items for their baking extravaganza and then back to her place, where they popped in the CDs on the big stereo and got around to getting the batter ready for the breadmaker. While they were at it, they started up a batch of vegan-friendly sugar cookies cut into the familiar shapes - snowman, snowflakes, Christmas trees, Santa, etc. - as well as vegan-friendly oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and vegan-friendly regular chocolate chip cookies. And since Quinn's mother wouldn't be home, they started a little dinner, too, so as not to completely overload on sweets.

Rachel was a far better kitchen companion than most anyone Quinn had ever baked or cooked with. She was as precise and careful about measurements as Quinn, but she danced about and sang to the music, too - not too serious, not too playful. Quinn hated to live up to her Goldilocks nickname, but Rachel was turning out to be just right in every way.

When they had nothing left to do in the kitchen but wait for batter to refrigerate, the breadmaker to finish kneading dough, and dinner to finish, and the CDs had ended, they set up in the living room and Rachel immediately suggested watching Quinn's favorite Christmas tradition aside from the cinnamon rolls - the original Christmas classics by Rankin/Bass. While Quinn opened up the red case of them and Rachel set up the TV and DVD player to her instructions, she prompted, "So, which one is your favorite of all?"

The answer was instant. "Rudolph."

Quinn grinned. "I knew you were going to say that."

Rachel straightened from setting the remotes on the coffee table. "How'd you know?"

"Because Rudolph is everyone's favorite, for whatever reason, and of course you'd relate to the special little reindeer whose specialness isn't appreciated." Quinn favored her with a smirk, but put the DVD in before she plopped next to Rachel on the cushions and waited for the menu to load up.

Rachel was blushing, but she conceded, "Okay, fair enough. So I suppose then that _your_ favorite is The Little Drummer Boy, because Jesus?" She grinned impishly.

Quinn shook her head with a smile. "Guess again."

Rachel hummed, narrowing her eyes on Quinn's. "Frosty, because...you're as cold as ice?" She grinned suddenly.

Quinn smirked, but still pointed a finger. "Don't sing it."

" _You're as cold as ice, you're willing to sacrifice our love_!" Rachel belted, sitting up straighter - she looked about to give a performance. " _You never take advice, someday you'll_ \- "

Quinn snared her waist as soon as Rachel started to rise up from the cushions, tickling her sides for all she was worth and taking the chance that Rachel was, in fact, ticklish. And it paid off. Rachel screeched the moment Quinn wiggled her fingers against her sides, and she was reduced to a giggling mass underneath her when Quinn reached her neck with it, panting, "Stop, stop, you win!"

Content with her position, Quinn set her chin on Rachel's shoulder and smirked. "Good."

Rachel's cheeks went a deeper red as she peered up at her, but she made no move to dislodge Quinn from her side. "You have a very pretty smile, Quinn."

"Mm?" Quinn drew a strand of hair from Rachel's face, tucking it back in place with the rest.

Rachel gnawed on her lip - nervous again - and Quinn felt a shudder go through her. "And very pretty eyes."

"Mm?"

Rachel's throat bobbed. "And very pretty lips."

Quinn licked them self-consciously, but before she could do anything else - lean in, let out another 'mm' to find out what else Rachel found pretty about her - one of the timers in the kitchen beeped and she sighed, dragging herself off of Rachel. Much as she didn't want to, she also didn't want the house to burn down around them because she was too busy being hypnotized by Rachel Berry. Still, she called over her shoulder, "Not Frosty!"

When she came back from setting a new tray of dough in the oven, Rachel was sitting up, knees curled to her chest, but she was smiling, albeit shyly. Quinn sat next to her again and hit play on the remote, tired of the repeating menu music, and offered a smile.

"So, that pretty much only leaves Santa Claus is Comin' To Town, and I'm guessing it has a little something to do with the Winter Warlock and his sudden meltdown, so to speak?" Rachel was smiling in that impish way again, nose wrinkled cutely.

Quinn had to drag in a breath to speak. "Maybe, subconsciously," she conceded, chuckling. "But it's always been my favorite. I like...I like the question-answer format of it."

Rachel seemed to take a moment to process this before the mischievous smile made a return. "Oh, _I_ see."

For some reason, Quinn's cheeks felt hot. "You see what?"

" _You_ like it because it offers explanation for something that doesn't have explanation," Rachel answered, almost haughtily. "You like having reasons behind the idea of Santa Claus, because you like the facts, not just the mythos on its own."

Quinn kissed her. Not for long, not even very firmly. Just a quick brush before she sat back again. Still, she felt Rachel staring at her out of the corner of her eye, and her lips tingled wildly from the brush. But she hadn't been able to help herself. No one had ever quite gotten her that way before, and even though it was over a silly kids' movie, Quinn had been overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness and wonderfulness of Rachel Berry all over again. And she just had to kiss her for it.

Rachel's voice was only a whisper. "What was that for?"

Quinn stared ahead at the screen. "I've never understood why people like this one so much. Sure, Rudolph is cute and everything, but everyone else is a jackass. Including Santa, and isn't the idea of Santa that he's the ultimate good? Not just like everyone else, who only appreciates Rudolph when they have a specific use for him? That's what they don't show you - the next day, when there's no fog or blizzard and everyone wants Rudolph to turn off his damn nose again."

Rachel said nothing, and Quinn tucked her bottom lip in until the next timer beeped. Rachel was still just sitting there when Quinn came back, watching the movie and chewing so hard and so vigorously on her bottom lip it was swelling. She didn't look up as Quinn took her place next to her again, and Quinn was beginning to worry she'd ruined everything when Rachel's fingers found hers. It was only a tentative touch, but when Quinn didn't pull away, Rachel grew braver and braver, until they were holding hands, and Quinn felt her heart skipping beats, even more so when Rachel managed to whisper again.

"Only you could deconstruct a harmless kids' movie into something gritty and dark."

Quinn smirked to herself.


	12. Sunday

After dinner and the rest of their baked goods were finished and cool enough to eat, the two of them spent most of the evening stuffing themselves far too full over the rest of the Rankin/Bass Christmas movies, followed by A Charlie Brown Christmas and the Garfield special, which Rachel had never seen, but giggled throughout. And when the animated specials were all finished with, Rachel groaned as she stretched upward next to Quinn, thoroughly distracting Quinn with the length of her body despite how completely miserable she was with fullness - so much so that she nearly didn't hear her gasp.

"What?"

"I didn't realize how late it was." Rachel pushed the quilted throw off her lap, biting onto her lower lip as she rocked forward and peered back at Quinn where she lay back along the cushions, feet up on the coffee table. "I should get out of your hair, call my fathers, if they're even still up."

Quinn frowned. "Or you could stay here."

Rachel paused, halfway to her purse. "Really?"

Quinn nodded. "Really."

She smiled brilliantly, and Quinn was warmed up from her toes. "Okay. I should still text my fathers, let them know where I'll be."

While she dug into her purse and tapped away happily, a little bounce added to her every move, Quinn's lips curved upward in satisfaction. She was still miserably full, but the idea of Rachel _not_ leaving, but staying with Quinn, smiling at her - between the occasional odd look, since Quinn had kissed her - and giggling next to her and moaning happily over each bite of cookie or cinnamon roll she took and being very much _there_ was a great source of delight. So she relaxed into the couch cushions, save for when she needed to change discs while they popped in some more Christmas classics, this time of the live action variety, and watched and enjoyed the energy Rachel exuded.

At least until ten o'clock, where Rachel seemed to hit a wall of exhaustion and she went from sitting on the edge of her cushion, watching Bing Crosby croon with wide, fascinated eyes, to laying in a ball against the arm of the couch, long eyelashes drooping and sweeping open valiantly every few moments. By the end of the movie, she was fast asleep, mouth dropped open to let loose a few quiet snores now and then, and Quinn set about cleaning up and putting everything away. Movies, food, dishes - she took care of all that and then she scooped Rachel up from the couch cautiously, hoping the effort of lifting and balancing her wouldn't wake her.

Fortunately, Rachel was dead to the world, and Quinn was able to settle her in bed, under the blankets, turn off the lights, and get under herself before Rachel moved again. She turned, arm slinging over Quinn's waist, and promptly started puffing her breaths against Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn couldn't help but smile looking at that adorable face in the dim light of the clear night from her window. Rachel's nose scrunched every now and then, and her bangs fluffed with every puff of breath, and Quinn was smitten. She couldn't resist leaning over - just enough to kiss her forehead - before she let herself drift off.

#

Rather than stare at Rachel sleeping like some kind of creeper all morning, though she would've liked to, Quinn dragged herself from bed first thing to get in her workout and make breakfast, which was mainly made up of leftover vegan cinnamon rolls, soy milk, and a couple of cookies on the side. Rachel sat up as Quinn carried the plates into the bedroom, smiling so brightly Quinn found herself thinking that smile every morning would make mornings much less awful. She plopped herself on the edge of the bed, handing Rachel's plate and glass over.

"Morning. Hungry?"

Rachel curled her hair behind her ears before she took the offering, almost bashfully - Quinn's heart thud-thudded. "Good morning. Thank you. I was just wondering where you were…"

"Workout," she supplied, and Rachel nodded.

"I'm impressed."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "Why…?"

"Because not many people would keep up such a rigorous exercising schedule if they didn't have to."

"Oh." Quinn nodded once, contemplating the hunk of cinnamon bread she had just ripped off. She had had way too many sweets this weekend, but it _was_ the Christmas season and they _always_ ate too many sweets then. Her and her family. Her and her mom, rather. She always worked it off anyway, though Rachel was right - technically, she didn't have to anymore. No Cheerios.

Rachel was trying to catch her eye. "Should I not have said that?"

Quinn shook her head abruptly, both of her thoughts and in answer. "No. No, it's fine. I chose to quit."

"Under duress, though. It wasn't fair of Coach Sylvester to make the three of you choose."

Quinn breathed a quiet sigh. "But she did and I'm on the glee club's side now."

"That's just it. It shouldn't have to be a matter of sides...but I'm glad you chose the glee club in the end. I thought - "

"You made it pretty clear what you thought," Quinn cut in.

Rachel looked away immediately. "I apologize for my hostility. I was - "

"Fighting fire with fire?" Quinn couldn't help but smirk when Rachel offered an anxious glance her way.

"I was going through a rough time," she corrected, softly.

Quinn resisted scoffing and exchanged it with a nod. "Because of the breakup."

"Yes." Rachel smoothed out the blanket on her lap before she straightened and finally met Quinn's eyes again. "But all that's over now." She smiled, and if Quinn wasn't mistaken, it was almost shyly.

Still, she quirked her eyebrow. "Is it?"

Rachel nodded and suddenly her hand was covering Quinn's warmly. "Yes."

It was Quinn's turn to blush now, under Rachel's confident, unwavering, big brown eyes. That earnest, knowing smile. The soft but firm touch of her hand. Quinn's lips tingled with memory and with want all at once, and when she felt her ears going hot, she cleared her throat and reached for another bite of cinnamon roll.

"So, figured out your Secret Santa yet?" She smirked as Rachel's jaw dropped.

"Quinn, you know we can't discuss that!" she hissed, smiling nonetheless.

"Come on, there's only two days left before we all find out anyway."

Rachel bit on her lip anxiously, eyes darting about, and Quinn's smirk spread into a grin.

"Tell me." She tapped her thumb over Rachel's, hoping the little touch would push her over the edge.

Rachel gnawed one more moment. "Honestly? I'm stumped." Her shoulders promptly dropped.

Quinn couldn't help a bark of a laugh. "Really now?"

"Yes. Their gifts make no sense!" she squawked defensively, throwing up her free hand. "I mean, really. How can the same person give you a few sheets of music the first day and then _jewelry_ with _real_ gems another?"

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe they didn't think about it much the first day. Or didn't have time to shop over the weekend, so they panicked."

Rachel seemed to consider this. "Maybe, but...then the next three gifts were the exact same ones...you first received, except in a different color. And the earmuffs had headphone attachments. And they were mittens instead of gloves, but still - "

"Could just be coincidence," she offered, and Rachel pursed her lips together.

"Even then, it still doesn't make sense," she breathed out at length, and Quinn smirked. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

Rachel puffed impatiently. "Have you figured yours out?"

Quinn grinned. "Maybe."

"Quinn!" she whined, folding her arms. "That's not fair. I told you my thoughts!" And then she pouted.

Quinn could only resist that puckered lower lip for a moment before she kissed it. Just another brush, a passing touch, but it left Rachel staring at her again and breathing in deeply, as though Quinn had just sucked away all she had in her lungs with that one gesture. Quinn picked at the remainder of her cinnamon roll, sucking the stickiness from her fingers, and the moment her forefinger left her mouth, Rachel was kissing her. But this kiss was lingering, and it sent tingles from Quinn's toes to her ears, and Rachel's lips were so soft and moist - a little sticky from the cinnamon roll, too, and Quinn was tempted to lick the taste off just as she was tempted to haul Rachel closer and find the most fragrant spot on her skin to breathe in that coconut smell - but it was so chaste, so gentle the way Rachel kissed her, Quinn couldn't bring herself to spoil it.

Rachel blinked those big brown eyes up at her when she pulled away, searching, and Quinn couldn't stop her lips from curving into a smile. Rachel beamed.

"I think you have the softest lips in the world," she breathed, and Quinn felt her ears turning bright red. Rachel had no mercy, however, and grinned. "I've never seen anyone so perfect. And I really believe that we should talk about this - " Quinn gulped " - whatever this is or could be, but. I can't stay today, I promised Kurt I would work with him on a solo…"

Quinn nodded. "Okay."

Rachel gnawed on her lip, searching again. "I don't want to put pressure on you, Quinn. If this was just...fooling around or whatever people call it, then we don't have to talk. But then I'd prefer it didn't happen again, even if it means risking this newfound friendship with you, because - "

"It's not fooling around," Quinn found herself blurting, and Rachel's shoulders seemed to drop a bit with lost tension. "I, um. I think - I… I just - "

Rachel's fingers pressed to Quinn's lips, and she smiled. "It's okay. We'll talk another time. Right now, you've said all I needed to hear."

It was Quinn's turn to relax, to breathe in relief, and she nodded as Rachel took her fingers away. They were still going to 'talk.' But Quinn had time, time to prepare what she would say. How she would explain - the past, the present, and the Secret Santa.


	13. Day 11

After Rachel left, leaving one more kiss on Quinn's lips for the road, Quinn settled back into working on the eleventh gift. It was almost finished, of course. All she had to do were some finishing touches and then she would roll it up, tie it off with a ribbon, and wrap it. She didn't want to repeat the mistake of giving Rachel only a couple of sheets of paper, after all, even if this time was different.

Although Quinn was starting to second guess herself on the second part of the gift, the part that was for Rachel's eyes only. Before the weekend, it had seemed like a good plan, a way to flirt with Rachel, to keep playing the game and to hint to her exactly who her Secret Santa happened to be. To keep seducing Rachel. But now, should she?

She had admitted to Rachel - and to herself - that she wasn't fooling around with her; would this undermine that admission? Would Rachel be offended? Disgusted? Even angered? Or would she be flushed, flattered, turned on, the way she had been by the book and the perfume and the candles and bubble bath solution?

Ultimately, Quinn decided it was better to take a chance. She _had_ spent days working on it; it seemed a pity not to share. And if Rachel didn't take kindly to it, Quinn could always play it off as a joke, because of their prior texting conversation. Decided, Quinn settled down at her desk to keep working away at it, occasionally popping a cookie in her mouth.

#

Rachel couldn't explain her bubblyness on Monday morning. Not out loud to anyone, that is. Quinn had seemed uncomfortable enough with the idea of _talking_ about their shared kisses; she could only imagine how ballistic she'd go if Rachel started shouting it to the entire school the moment she walked in. Rachel was still tempted to do just that, but she kept her mouth shut with a smile.

She had hoped, throughout all this Secret Santa business - well, honestly, throughout the entirety of high school - that one day Quinn would change her mind about her. That one day she would turn around and see that perhaps Rachel wasn't so bad, that in fact they could be good friends, because Rachel would never judge. She would always listen, she would always be there, as a shoulder for Quinn whenever she needed it.

But Rachel had never expected anything more than that. Had never dared to dream beyond it, but now, it had happened. Quinn _kissed_ her. Quinn called her _beautiful_. Quinn _carried her to bed and tucked her in_. And she wasn't fooling around. She wasn't just messing with Rachel; she had no angle. No angle except that she liked Rachel. And that was enough to send Rachel skyrocketing all day long.

It garnered her quite a few odd looks, particularly from Finn. Though while the rest of the world seemed simply caught off-guard by her seeming overnight switch from glum to gleeful, he seemed particularly irritated by it. Her cheerful greeting to him in the morning was returned with a grumble and narrowed eyes, and Rachel was stunned at herself - because she was terribly tempted to stick her tongue out at him for his pouting. At _Finn_.

Of course, his suspicions were solely directed toward Noah. Rachel spied him sending more than one glare at his once best friend throughout the day, which Noah responded to with utter confusion. And in the meantime, Finn entirely missed the smiles Rachel exchanged with Quinn in their shared classes, and that was just fine with Rachel, because she wouldn't have missed Quinn's pink cheeks and batting lashes for the world.

Rachel was so distracted by Quinn and the bubbling of joy and attraction - not just the regular attraction she felt for Quinn, from her beauty and the mysterious air she exuded and the bursts of passion that punched through the elegant, sophisticated facade, but for the newly exposed side of Quinn, from her sweetness and shyness and wit and kindness - that she entirely forgot about Secret Santa until it was her turn to turn in her gift. She was one of the last scheduled to do so before glee club, after Noah and before Sam, and it was only when she was dropping it off that it occurred to her that this and her previous gift were rather provocative when taken in the context that she had just spent the weekend exchanging four separate kisses with Quinn.

She was so occupied by watching Quinn open her gift, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't take her offering the wrong way, that she nearly didn't notice the note attached to the outside of the long cylinder shaped gift she'd received until it fell to her lap. Her brow furrowed abruptly as she swept it up and read, 'I wanted to be the first to capture the moment; I hope you like it. P.S. The second is for your eyes only. I think you'll find it more flattering than the others.'

Rachel's eyebrows went sky high, and immediately she was ripping open the beautiful wrapping paper to slip off a pink ribbon and unfurl a detailed drawing on canvas paper, done with what appeared to be charcoal and colored pencil, of Rachel herself on the Broadway stage, in front of a packed audience, in Evita's final costume, rose petals and bouquets flying from the crowd onto the stage, littering it all around Rachel's feet. It was breathtaking.

And even if there hadn't been that clue in the note, there was something about the way it was drawn - something very familiar. Rachel couldn't resist taking a quick peek at the second one, just to be sure, just slipping her finger between the two so she could peer down between to what appeared to be another drawing of herself - on a bed, mainly covered by a sheet, with a blonde head between her legs.

Rachel lost every breath in her lungs and pulled her finger loose, pressing the sheets tight together as she glanced over at Quinn, who was lifting her own gift and revving the vibrating feature a few times. Rachel's cheeks had never felt so hot in her life - and it didn't help when Quinn caught her eye, waggled her eyebrows, and turned up the vibration again.

Quinn Fabray was going to be the death of her.

#

It was an electric massager. First massage oils, and now an electric massager - with a note that read, 'In case there's no one to spread the oil! -SS'. There was no way on earth Rachel had any idea how that sounded, or how her gifts seemed, before she bought it, wrapped it, wrote it, and sent it. But that didn't mean Quinn couldn't have a little fun teasing her over it, particularly when she had sent an _intentionally_ innuendoed item for her own gift.

Rachel didn't seem particularly irritated. Primarily flustered, Quinn gathered, from the flush in her cheeks and neck, and her shy smile as she looked back down at the first drawing. The relief Quinn felt in seeing that smile was immeasurable.

Of course, they'd been smiling at each other all day. It sent a thrill through Quinn every time they met eyes and Rachel beamed like that, like Quinn had made her day - her month - her year. Just by kissing her, by liking her. And Quinn could admit to herself now that she _did_ like her. She liked Rachel Berry very much.

The problem now was getting out of talking about it. Well, and deciding what to do about it, aside from kiss Rachel every chance she received from now on. Quinn had an inkling, of sorts. She'd been thinking about it, mulling it over, since that morning when Rachel grinned at her and Quinn's heart tried to burst from her chest.

She had thought briefly about doing things Santana's way. After all, Santana was the only lesbian Quinn knew, so it was the only example she had to go by. But a second look turned Quinn the other way. Brittany was miserable, Brittany found someone else, Santana was miserable. Quinn couldn't have that with Rachel.

So Quinn figured she'd follow a guy's example. Except all the guys she knew were idiots. She wasn't about to get Rachel drunk. Or take her to Breadstix - disgusting.

No, Rachel needed something...romantic, something thoughtful. Something that may require another shopping trip at the mall. Dammit.


	14. Day 12

A few hours after dinner spent walking through the mall, only to realize she wasn't going to find what she was looking for there, then driving around downtown Lima until she saw a sign that appealed, and finally coming home and wrapping her chosen gift small enough to fit into the stocking the next morning, Quinn plopped into bed with a book and checked her phone, which blinked with a few notifications - most notably, a text from Rachel: 'You know I don't plan on losing my virginity until I'm 25, right?'

Quinn grinned to herself, propping up her pillow so she could sit up and think before she typed back, 'We are the only members of the celibacy club. Of course I know. But that doesn't mean I can't tease you mercilessly until then.'

She waited a minute or two before she picked up her book - and God help her, she was _actually_ reading the abominable self-help book Rachel had given her. Open Your Heart with Singing. Ugh. If Santana could only see her now...utterly whipped. She even made good headway, through the first two chapters before her phone vibrated on her belly.

'! That's not fair!'

Quinn's grin returned with a lecherous edge. 'Why? You can tease me, too.'

The reply only took a moment this time. 'That's just it! You have a certain charisma and charm about you that makes you completely irresistible to all human beings within a ten foot radius; I, on the other hand, have a ten foot radius of aversion.'

Her lips dropped a fraction. 'You don't to me.'

'I used to! What if it comes back?'

'It won't.'

'It could!'

Quinn rolled her eyes. 'It won't. I like you now and it's going to stay that way. I only didn't like you in the first place because I only knew the surface you.'

'Really?'

She sniffed and smiled, squirming into her pillows. 'Really.'

'But we still haven't gotten to know each other that well. You've only even liked me for - actually I'm still not clear on how long you've liked me.'

A sigh puffed out her mouth. 'Does it matter? The more I think about you and what I've learned about you, either from talking to you or from what I've gleaned through observation, the more I like you.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'You're much more open to conversation via text.'

Quinn's cheeks flushed in spite of herself. 'It's easier this way. I don't have to see your face.'

':('

'I didn't mean it like THAT. I meant I don't have to see your reaction. I don't have the pressure of your eyes on me. And saying things is harder than typing them. Things come out easier this way.'

It took so long for Rachel to reply this time that Quinn was on the verge of sending another, but then it came buzzing through.

'I guess I can see that. It's different for me. I like to see people's faces when I talk to them, because the lack of reaction scares me! Text can mean so many things and there can be so many emotions behind it that you're not getting. Like "I don't have to see your face." You could mean that the way Santana would mean it - snotty and rude. Or you could mean it the way you meant it, that it makes you feel vulnerable. Or you could be being sarcastic and I would have no idea. And people are sarcastic with me about 99.9% of the time, so I much prefer to be able to hear their tone and see their eyes roll than to read a text and flounder for explanation.'

Quinn smiled to herself. 'Well, for someone who doesn't like communicating not face-to-face, you certainly took to sending notes.'

'That's different! Some of my gifts, I realized, needed explanation. Some of them needed even further explanation than I gave, as it turns out, but. I still can't believe you've been my Secret Santa this entire time, by the way. The jewelry? That dating guide book? The sheet music?'

She bit on her lower lip, shifting anxiously. 'I was wondering how long it would take you to ask. I didn't really care for the assignment, so I didn't put much effort in for the first four days and then I couldn't exactly get you a book light, so.'

'But obsidian and silver! How much did it even cost you?!'

'It's a GIFT. Gifts are allowed to be expensive. Besides, the musical note shapes were impossible to resist.'

'So basically, you're trying to tell me it was no big deal when you went from not caring at all to buying me expensive jewelry.'

'I'm telling you I wanted you to have it and still do, so it doesn't matter how much it cost, as long as you like it.'

'I love it! I just don't understand how you went from copy catting me to jewelry in a day.'

'I guess I cared more about you than I thought all along.'

':) So what about the dating guide?'

Quinn flushed red. 'I was angry with you for the Low Voices book, so I took a cheap shot.'

'Angry? I was only trying to help! I thought perhaps the reason you don't sing very often in glee is that it's difficult to find songs made for women with lower range voices! Most solos are made for sopranos or mezzos, after all, and it's really rather unfair when you think about it.'

'I know that NOW. I had a knee jerk reaction. I was starting to realize I liked you.'

'Oh. So it was a good thing. Sort of.'

'Yes. Sort of.'

'I really like you, too, Quinn. Just so you know! I think you're one of the sweetest people I've ever met. When you allow yourself to be, that is. And I feel really privileged that I'm one of the people you've been sweet to.'

Quinn bit on her bottom lip, adjusting the book on her chest. 'Does this mean we don't have to talk in person now?"

':D You're not getting out of it that easily. We still have plenty to discuss!'

'Like what? Why can't we talk about it now?'

'Because it's late and I, for one, need my beauty rest, and like our relationship status, our orientational status, and most definitely our "outness" status.'

Quinn's lip was starting to sting from her chewing. 'All right.'

'Don't worry, Quinn. It won't be nearly as painful as you think!'

'If you say so.'

'I do. Good night, Quinn! I look forward to my last present tomorrow! ;)'

'Night, Rachel.'

And with that, Quinn set aside her phone, drummed her fingers on the book, and swallowed. Relationship, orientation, outness. She hoped to God her last gift was going to take care of all that in one fell swoop.

#

Mr. Schuester accepted Quinn's last gift with a smile and a lecture on how proud he was of her for taking the initiative to give Rachel some very thoughtful gifts along the way. Thankfully, it only lasted fifteen minutes, due to Santana's scheduled slot, and Mr. Schuester's expression turned instantly into a frown. Since Artie wasn't scheduled until about forty-five minutes later, Quinn did not envy Santana. But then, it served her right for giving Lauren weight loss gifts the entire twelve days.

As with yesterday, Quinn exchanged smiles with Rachel all throughout their shared classes, and she almost felt...a little sad that tomorrow they'd be out of school, and Secret Santa would be over. True, she still felt it was one of the dumbest assignments in glee club yet, but now the intrigue was over. The guessing, the games, the gifts. The anonymous gifts, anyway. On her trip to the mall the previous night, Quinn had suddenly seen a million things to buy for Rachel - and she had no intention of _not_ getting them now, just because Secret Santa was over.

Well, not quite yet. At the end of the day, they all collected their presents and sat, this time to open them one by one, so everyone could see everyone else's last gifts and their guesses. Quinn drummed her fingers impatiently on something suspiciously shaped like a shirt box and winked up at Rachel, who blushed before she looked studiously to the far side of the room, where Mr. Schuester had Artie start off the proceedings.

His last gift was a pair of turn signals and a brake light that could be attached to his wheelchair; he correctly guessed that Puck was his Secret Santa, which he, along with everyone else, had figured out upon receiving flame stickers for his wheels on day two. Puck just shrugged and went to work helping him attach the lights, and Brittany went next, opening up a box with a plush cube cat bed inside.

"Have you guessed your Secret Santa?" Mr. Schuester prompted, after Santana explained to her that it was a cat bed and not a hat.

"Lord Tubbington!" Brittany squealed cheerfully.

Quinn covered her mouth, and Artie patted her hand and gently explained that it had been him all along. Brittany was amazed. Santana tore the wrapping off a pair of high-heeled boots, after which she simply commented, "No fucking clue," and after Mr. Schuester scolded her, Tina claimed responsibility for the mishmash of items, explaining she hadn't been sure what to get Santana. Mike went next, finding a pair of rubber ducks inside his packaging - he had correctly guessed Brittany after he'd received a unicorn shirt and a pair of ballet flats. Tina herself drew out the third in a string of black nail polish; Finn sheepishly admitted he had been behind the gothic theme when she admitted she wasn't sure.

Sam found a rare comic book with the first appearance of Green Lantern in his stocking and had correctly guessed Mike after his third comic book present, from their shared love of the genre. Finn was stumped over his collection of Ohio State football paraphernalia, the last of which was a large throw for his bed or wall, and Mercedes received a hug when she raised her hand to Mr. Schuester's prompt.

Finally, Rachel's turn came and she shot an eager smile to Quinn before she unwrapped the box, slipped it open, and lifted out the usual accompanying note. Brittany bounced at the sight of it, and Quinn mentally cursed. She hadn't thought to write a note for everyone to _hear_ , only one for Rachel's eyes, but when Tina prompted, "What does it say?", Rachel lifted her chin, smirked to Quinn, and read out:

'For a better color in your wardrobe.'

Quinn smirked, and then Rachel carefully pulled out a long Cheerio red dress that drew gasps from the rest of the glee club. Rachel's eyes shone brightly as she looked at it, standing to get the full effect, and Quinn could tell already that Rachel was going to be simply _stunning_ in it. Her heart skipped a beat at Rachel's smile, when she spoke again, this time to say:

"Obviously, this could only come from Quinn."

There were a few nods of agreement as Quinn simply twisted her lips into a smirk, and Rachel favored her with a bright beam before she folded it up, while Mercedes was opening her gift, which turned out to be a batch of heart-shaped, homemade sugar cookies with red and pink frosting. She and Sam shared a smile Quinn was starting to find very familiar when he revealed that he'd been behind all of her homemade gifts, from the cookies to the shell necklace, and it brought her eyes easily back to Rachel. She daydreamed of her in that red dress while Puck opened up a pack of gum and guessed Lauren - because he'd seen all the things she'd gotten him in her locker before. For some reason, this brought him to smile at her much the way Sam and Mercedes smiled at each other, and the way Rachel smiled back at Quinn now.

Puck nudged Quinn back to reality before she turned to the package on her lap, and she ripped it open without ceremony this time, breathing out a sigh until she pulled out the requisite note, and read before they could all ask, 'For your inevitable return to the Cheerios, when Coach Sylvester begs to have you back. -SS.'

She couldn't help but grin, a flush rising in her cheeks even as she skipped over the P.S. - she could read that later - and then lifted out another Cheerio red item; this time, a workout shirt with fabric that cooled while you worked, with the Cheerios logo embroidered on the left breast of it.

"I've known Rachel was mine since day seven when I got a book of songs," she deadpanned, smiling at the shirt and then back at Rachel as everyone laughed. "Thank you, Rachel."

Rachel grinned back at her, and Quinn indulged herself in a few more heartbeat skipping moments while Lauren opened up her last gift. The largest size of Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse available. And the rest of glee was spent with three quarters of the room trying to hold back Lauren, and the rest available hands trying to hold back Santana.


	15. Christmas Eve Eve

Quinn didn't get a chance to read that P.S. until late in the evening, after they'd all pried Santana and Lauren apart and gone home, and Quinn had had another quiet dinner with her mother and promptly went to work finishing all of the assigned homework for over the break. Then, she finally settled into bed, admiring the shirt before she plucked the note from the box and read it over one more time, which she now found ended curiously enough with, 'P.S. I don't think I need to tell you that the picture is for your eyes only. To hold us over until I'm 25.'

Quinn's brow quirked high. What picture? She lifted the tissues in the box, peeking beneath the shirt until she spied an envelope decorated with hearts. The picture she slid out of it moments later nearly gave her a heart attack. Rachel Berry, naked in a bathtub, her modesty just barely protected by the bubbles rising up around her wet chest, familiar candles alight on either side of her. Quinn licked her lips - and couldn't help but smile. Evidently, they'd had similar ideas for that final gift.

Just as she thought so, her phone buzzed with a text from Rachel herself: '! You are the biggest tease, Quinn Fabray!'

Quinn grinned.

#

Rachel was on cloud nine from the moment she got home. Not even Santana and Lauren trying to claw each other's eyes out, or Finn's pouting glare when waved a dismissive hand to his wish for her to have a happy holiday, could ruin this mood. Quinn had gotten her the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen _and_ she'd set a date. A real date. Not just a meeting in the mall, not just hanging out. A date.

It didn't necessarily mean that Quinn was ready to be 'out' in front of everyone, so Rachel had covered in front of the club, but the note plainly read, 'Also for a special knight. 7 pm, tomorrow night.'

There was no location given, which meant Quinn was picking her up. For a date. A real date! With _Quinn Fabray_. Rachel could hardly stand it, and she read that note so many times between dinner with her fathers, her evening warmups, practice, and MySpace video, and completing some of the homework assigned for over the break, that she was amazed to find there was a postscript on the back of it when she plopped into bed after her shower. Which read, 'P.S. The second gift is for your 25th Christmas.'

Rachel immediately grabbed the box from the top of her dresser and flung it open, carefully setting aside the dress so that she could dig under the protective tissue paper - and instantly blushed beet red when she found something that was also the selected Cheerio red color, but with a white fluffy hem, making it very specifically for Christmas. A negligee set.

It was only a moment before Quinn replied to her text, saying simply, 'And you aren't?'

Rachel was blushing all over again at the reminder of her very own little gift. She shouldn't have done it, really, but sitting there, soaking in the New York autumn smell from the candles and the warmth of the bath, thinking only of those exquisite drawings and a blonde head between her legs - she hadn't been able to resist trying a few Polaroids. It had meant re-wrapping the gift and adding to the note, of course, but it was worth it to know that Quinn was just as affected by that as Rachel was by receiving a _negligee_ , of all things, from Quinn Fabray.

'I was trying for seductive!'

'And you made it, baby.'

Rachel's lips split wider than she even expected. 'Baby?'

'Honey, doll, darlin', sweet pie, sugar - whatever suits you.'

She flopped onto the bed with a laugh, setting the negligee back in the box and snuggling into her pillows. 'You don't think it's a little premature to settle on pet names? :)'

'You're right; I should be picking out more naughty underwear for other holidays. Green for St. Patrick's Day, obviously, but what about Easter and the Fourth of July?'

Rachel flushed. 'Point taken. But I think your energies might be better served in going toward our first date, like selecting what to wear, where we're going...'

'Done.'

'Oh, really?'

'Yes.'

Rachel bit on her bottom lip, thinking for a moment. 'So what did you pick out?'

'Something fabulous.'

She puffed out a breath of a laugh. 'I'm sure! And where we're going?'

'Someplace fancy.'

'So, Breadstix?'

'Fancy by non-Lima standards.'

Rachel grinned a little. 'Really?'

'Really.'

It stretched into a full-sized beam. 'I've never been on a date anywhere but Breadstix. And, well, the bowling alley, on occasion.'

'That's because you've never been on a date with me.'

'I thought you said our day at the mall was a date.'

'That was to make you blush and crinkle your nose.'

Rachel's brow furrowed briefly, though she couldn't resist wrinkling her nose with a smile anyway. 'That's specific!'

'You have a cute face that does specifically cute things.'

Heat reentered her cheeks. 'Oh? What else does it do?'

'I'll tell you on our date.'

Rachel's lower lip poked out. 'Why not now?'

'Because it's ten o'clock and you're about to crash.'

She yawned and flicked her gaze toward the clock, eyebrows raising - and smiled. 'You're good, Quinn Fabray.'

'You have no idea.'

'Good night.'

'Sleep tight.'

#

Quinn had never been nervous for a date in her life. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Her first date with Finn had nearly caused her a heart attack. She'd never dated anyone before, and her insecurities had crept up with a vengeance that night. And her first date with Sam caused a few flutters, primarily because of his attempt at a kiss prior to the evening. But she had never been nervous in this way. Nervous about seeing Rachel, nervous about impressing and delighting her. Nervous about how she looked in the green dress she'd selected and about whether gardenias were the right choice of flower.

Perhaps this was what it felt like to be a boyfriend. Quinn didn't envy them.

But all that was instantly forgotten the moment Rachel opened the door in that red dress, brilliant brunette hair in a curly updo, leaving her honey neck and shoulders exposed to the world - and beaming up at Quinn like she was the sun and the moon and the stars. For a moment, Quinn thought this must be what it felt like to be Finn, and she felt a flash of envy. But then Rachel was looking at _her_ , with that smile and those flushed cheeks and kissable red lips, and Quinn raised her chin.

"I was almost worried you'd get cold feet and not show," Rachel breathed, and Quinn nearly kicked herself on realizing she'd spent the last few moments simply staring at Rachel's beauty.

She brought forth the requisite bouquet instead, smiling when Rachel did. "Well, I'm here. You look - beautiful."

Rachel had been gaping at the flowers, but that changed rather quickly. "Really? So do you!"

Quinn grinned in spite of herself. "Thank you. Are you ready?"

Rachel nodded rapidly. "Just one minute!"

She turned to hand the flowers to someone inside, and for the first time, Quinn noticed there were two shadows behind the curtain in the door. Her stomach convulsed, but the moment one of them gasped at the flowers and started cooing, it eased and she was able to smile readily when Rachel turned back to her.

Quinn made sure to hit upon all the important points - offering her arm and opening the door for Rachel first before she got in herself - and once they were on the road, she could, at last, relax back into her seat while Rachel fidgeted next to her.

"Your shadow dads seem nice," Quinn quipped to break the silence, and Rachel was instantly laughing.

"I would've introduced you, but they can be a bit overwhelming, like me," she explained.

Quinn waved a hand. "It's fine. Meet the parents can wait until step forty-two."

"Forty-two?" Rachel laughed. "You have it all planned out, do you?"

"Of course not, I just assumed you do." She grinned cheekily.

"I try not to plan anything when it comes to you. You're wildly unpredictable, you know."

Quinn smirked. "Oh, right. Like a tiger in its cage, right?"

Rachel's blush nearly lit up the car. "I rather think of you like a lion, with that big golden mane. Although you're certainly not lazy…"

"So I'm a little of both. I'm a liger." She shot another grin Rachel's way.

She giggled. "Or a tigon."

"Or a unigon."

Rachel's laugh reached its height, and Quinn smirked to herself. "What is that?"

"A tigon with a unicorn horn." She nodded.

Rachel tittered for a few more moments, the silence interspersed with her giggles until she seemed to notice something as she looked out the window. "Are we going to Columbus?"

Quinn nodded again. "Mmhm."

"You're still not going to tell me _exactly_ where we're going, are you?"

"No." She smirked.

"Such a tease," Rachel breathed.

They drove on in silence then, exchanging the occasional smile, but Quinn was settled with it, with Rachel relaxed next to her, just watching the sights flash by until they arrived at the Dragonfly. Rachel's jaw dropped and seemed to stay that way from the moment she realized where they were to the moment they were seated at a candlelit table for two. Quinn simply smiled and picked up her menu to scan until Rachel's powers of speech returned.

"How can you afford this?" she hissed, over top her own menu. "How are you - why are you - just - here, me - how - " Rachel abruptly deflated, looking terribly frustrated for a moment. Quinn just smirked. "I can't let you pay for this."

"Yes, you can. It's called a date," Quinn hummed, sipping at her water.

Rachel frowned. "We can go Dutch."

"No. This is my gift, to you."

"Secret Santa is over," she pointed out.

"But our relationship is just beginning."

Rachel's lips quivered - she was struggling not to smile. Quinn cracked her with a smile of her own.

"Our relationship?"

Quinn nodded. "Yes, and you're going to be showered with gifts whether you like it or not."

"But - why?"

"Because I appreciate you."

Rachel gaped for a few more moments, that smile staying static on her face, and when she finally lifted her menu, Quinn smirked and did the same. Perfect.

#

They talked mainly about glee club through dinner. It was their common point of interest, after all, and they had never really spoken about it before. Now they could talk freely about their opinions and thoughts, about how Rachel really did think other people deserved more solos but she was the only one who _needed_ them to advance her career, and about how Quinn preferred to stand in the background anyway because it _wasn't_ what she intended to do with her life, though she wasn't sure what she _was_ going to do. About how Rachel thought they should focus more on increasing their skills with dancing rather than shoving it aside or leaving it all to Brittany and Mike, and how Quinn was really remarkable at both dancing and singing and should contribute more of her leadership skills to the club - and perhaps she should even be Rachel's co-captain instead of Finn. Quinn agreed to consider it.

When they'd finished with the special dessert on the menu for the night and Quinn footed the bill, with Rachel insisting that she pay for the next date, even if it _was_ only at Breadstix, they started the drive back in contented, full silence. Quinn couldn't help but smile even only to herself on the way, because she'd had a date with Rachel - a good one - and Rachel was smiling in the passenger seat next to her, and Quinn felt warm all over. It hadn't been anything spectacular, just dinner and conversation. But it was perfect. Rachel was perfect.

Quinn couldn't entirely believe she even had that thought. Or at least, she wouldn't have been able to believe it before this whole Secret Santa thing started. But now...she couldn't quite figure why she ever thought anything else, with Rachel beaming at her like she was the sun and the moon and the stars when she opened the door for her, with Rachel taking her arm and leaning just slightly into her as they walked up to the front door, and with Rachel grinning brightly as she turned and clasped Quinn's hand between both of her own.

"I had a really, really nice time tonight, Quinn."

"So did I."

Rachel bit onto her lower lip, but before Quinn could stare at it, she was leaning up and planting another of those gentle kisses on Quinn's own lips. Warm and moist, but chaste. And it still turned Quinn's head fuzzy and her heart thumping wildly, even after Rachel had pulled back. Their noses brushed as she murmured, "You are the best secret in the world."

Quinn smiled minutely. "Don't you mean Secret Santa?"

Rachel shook her head, tickling the tip of Quinn's nose with her own, and beamed. "No. Call me tomorrow?"

"I will." Quinn stepped backward, reluctantly, when Rachel sank to her heels. "Good night."

Rachel's smile wrinkled her nose again, adorably. "Good night, Quinn."

When Quinn pulled out of the driveway, after Rachel was safely inside, the little brunette waved from the window before the shadow dads pulled her away - and Quinn thought maybe, just maybe, Secret Santa hadn't been such a dumb assignment after all.


End file.
